Ballast
by TwelfthAdept
Summary: Felix's goals in life are simple: Go along with this crazy scheme so Mom and Dad will be safe. Keep Jenna out of trouble. Protect Sheba. Don't let anyone get killed. It's funny how that doesn't leave much time for living. (VERY) eventual swampshipping.
1. Chapter 1

Felix's day was not going well. He had fairly simple goals in life:

1\. Go along with this crazy scheme so Mom and Dad would be safe

2\. Keep Jenna out of trouble

3\. Protect Sheba

and, most importantly,

4\. Don't let anyone get killed

He was currently failing spectacularly at goals one, two, and four, but if he had any sort of luck at all he still had a chance at achieving number three. He'd forced his way to the top of the lighthouse just in time to see everything go wrong, and now he stood at the edge of the central platform with one hand holding Sheba's and the other clutching his sword, wondering whose side he ought to be on.

It should have been finished when Saturos lit the beacon, but the unleashed power was greater than he could have imagined, and Isaac - stupid, _stupid_ Isaac, showing up just in time to make a mess of everything - was too reckless for his own good. He'd barely won, the first time, and even with the beacon lit, and Saturos and Menardi fused together into some kind of fire-breathing abomination, he'd decided to fight again.

The tower trembled beneath his feet - Mother Gaia - and Felix swallowed thickly. He hadn't known Isaac was this strong, or this persistent. Someone was going to die. At first he'd thought it would be Isaac, but now he wasn't so sure. He didn't know if that should make him happy.

As purple lightning split the sky, he bit his lip and tried to make a plan. The beacon was lit. Sheba was still alive. If he were really lucky Jenna might even have done the sensible thing and gotten out of there before it was too late. That was something.

He could fix this. Somehow. He hoped. Saturos and Menardi wouldn't trust him again. Jenna - naive, eternally-optimistic Jenna - thought that Isaac could be reasoned with, but as Felix watched him fight he wasn't convinced. Isaac could beat him, easily; he had nothing compelling him to listen. And even if he did, what then? Would they invade Prox with seven people? Would his parents be allowed to live that long? With half the lighthouses active, would the world even last until then?

Isaac leapt forward to attack, and Felix cursed under his breath. Ignorant child.

Sheba tugged at his sleeve, looking worried. He supposed his thoughts didn't make a very pretty picture. He turned to her, and tried to act like he knew what he was doing. "Come on. Let's go."

"What -"

"It's not safe up here. Get under cover. When they're done… I'll sort it out."

She nodded, staring up at him with big green eyes, and he wished she weren't so trusting. He looked away, quickly, and began leading her down the steps, out of the way, even as the battle started in earnest again above them.

They huddled against the outside of the tower, barely protected underneath a decorative overhang, and waited for it to end. With each new volley, ancient dust shook free from the craggy walls, and he didn't trust the hallways not to collapse. He prayed to any power that was listening that the lift would still be functional when everything was said and done.

The battle raged on, air and water, fire and earth, and Felix's heart sank. Isaac couldn't win. Not now. Not against that…thing. Jupiter and Mars would be lit, but at the cost of four people's lives. His too, maybe. He was wondering how he'd explain it all to Jenna when a piercing shriek rent the air.

He waited two heartbeats, ten heartbeats, for an answering attack, and heard only silence.

And then - voices. Isaac's voice.

No.

They couldn't have…

He sprang to his feet and dashed up the steps, Sheba close behind. They reached the top in time to see Saturos and Menardi fall, lifeless, into the lighthouse well, and he'd barely had time to make sense of it when the tower began to shake. Next to him, Sheba stumbled, and a blinding light flashed from the beacon. Felix flung his arm up in front of his eyes and was thrown to the floor, a sound like a million shattered lifetimes thundering in his ears.

The impact knocked him dizzy and for too many agonizing moments he lay with his face pressed against the brick, coughing dust and hoping it wasn't the end. When his vision finally cleared, a gaping chasm yawned open where the steps had been, and Sheba -

Sheba?

"Felix!"

Behind him. He turned, and saw nothing but crumbling brick, and heard her cry again. "_Felix!_ Help!"

He didn't see her, until he looked down. There she was, dangling by her fingers from the aerie's edge.

No.

He dropped to his knees. "Take my hand!"

She let one hand go and with a terrified yelp flailed for his, barely brushing his gloves. Her other hand slid farther down the brick, and she slapped her free hand back into place, clinging for her life.

He willed his arm to stretch farther, to reach her hand - but it wasn't enough. _Please,_ he begged silently, and wondered if she heard it. "You have to try! If you don't, you'll fall!"

She stared up at him, tears in those big bright eyes, still trusting him to save her. He watched her fingers slipping and knew it couldn't be done. The tower shook, and she slipped some more, and looked down, all the way down. "The foundations of the lighthouse are crumbling," she whispered, and looked back up at him.

She knew he'd failed her.

He stretched his hand out farther, and tried to pretend his heart wasn't ripping in half. She was counting on him. They'd all been counting on him. Why did he always -

He gritted his teeth. No time to dwell on that, not now. "Don't let go! You can't!"

Her arms shook like mad, fingertips gone white. She smiled, sadly. "Goodbye, Felix. Thank you."

"No!" He slammed his chest against the stones and _reached_ for all he was worth, but his hand met nothing but open air. Over the edge he saw her, so small already, tumbling through the dusty sky -

For half a crazy second he wondered if maybe Wind Adepts knew how to fly, but she just kept falling, falling -

His vision blurred, and she was nothing more than a gold-and-white speck plummeting past the ends of his fingers. He'd lost her, too.

_No._

He hauled himself up on the heaving brick of the aerie, and swayed, dangerously close to the edge. He'd lost them all, and she was still falling. He'd failed, hadn't he? He'd failed everyone. Another broken promise in a long litany of the same. But maybe -

Maybe he could do something. Maybe there was still a chance.

He stepped back, to give it a running start, and tried not to think about the ocean at the bottom. With his heart beating a desperate staccato in his chest and a wordless yell screaming from his throat, Felix sprinted forward, and jumped.


	2. Chapter 2

The falling took forever, and yet no time at all.

Felix twisted head-over-heels through the air, unable to right himself, and had just enough time to realize the depths of his own stupidity before he hit the freezing waves.

By some miracle it didn't kill him, didn't knock him out, but the cold stung and the shock of it drove the air from his lungs. He gasped and flailed like a madman, trying his damnedest to stay afloat for all that he didn't know how, and as he flailed his arm struck something -

\- white and gold -

\- _Sheba!_

He grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her to him. She was alive and awake, thank everything, and kicking furiously.

"Can you swim?" he called, over the noise of wind and sea. Say yes, he prayed, please say yes. Please, he repeated silently, trying not to think of how it had been the last time, desperate for air and trapped alone in the cold wet dark -

"No!" A wave caught them, ducking her under the water until he yanked her back up. She coughed, and sputtered, and then she said exactly what he'd been hoping she wouldn't. "Can you?"

What good would knowing do her? "Just hang on!" He fished her up out of the water again and both of them kicked and thrashed, fighting a losing battle against the waves.

What had he been thinking? He hadn't been able to catch her and he knew he couldn't swim and now they were both going to die. At least he'd go down with her.

Or perhaps…

She seemed to have it almost figured out, almost managing to keep herself steady, but every time a wave hit she sank beneath the surface. Felix helped as best he could, seizing handfuls of her shirt and hauling her back up into the air, but he was also sinking, waterlogged clothing dragging him down. There was no chance for him, he knew, but she_ almost had it_.

Please, he thought again, she'd lived this long, please, it couldn't end just now -

\- and she was getting tired, and he had no idea how to get to land.

Icy panic clawed its way up his chest, and he poured every bit of healing Psynergy he had through rapidly-numbing fingers, hoping desperately that it might make a difference. Even as he did it he felt the last of his reserves starting to go, and next to him, she slowly stopped her kicking.

When the next big wave hit, he had no strength to fight it. It pulled them under, and everything went black.

* * *

Felix was surprised to still be breathing.

The last thing he remembered was a flash of sparkling purple-blue. He'd thought it was the end.

Apparently not.

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was that his pack had survived the journey with him. The straps cut into his shoulders and he tried to shrug out of them, but found he couldn't move. Every inch of him ached as though he'd been beaten, and his arms refused to listen to his commands.

Dimly he became aware of noises above him. People talking. He listened, trying to place them, and recognized Jenna, and low murmuring from Kraden, and last but certainly not least Sheba, high-pitched and clear - all of them had made it, then, all of them alive. He would have wept from happiness, if he weren't so tired.

He let his head sink back against the sand instead and just let them talk, not really listening, as he tried to summon the energy to move.

Another voice sounded above him. "Felix, are you awake?"

_Alex._

His eyes snapped open.

Anger, it turned out, did wonders for one's motivation. He summoned every bit of willpower he had and forced his battered limbs to do his bidding, rolling to the side and shoving himself none-too-quickly to his feet.

Jenna started towards him, arms outstretched. She was bedraggled and covered in dirt and by the _elements_ he didn't think he'd ever seen a more beautiful sight. "Are you sure you should be standing?"

He waved her off, blinking in the sunlight and hoping Alex hadn't noticed how bad it was.

No such luck.

Alex stood slightly away from the rest of them, arms crossed. Unlike the others - soaked in seawater, covered in dust, and otherwise disheveled - he was absolutely pristine, without so much as a hair out of place. Felix's jaw tightened.

"So, Felix," he said with a poisonous little smile, "So very nice of you to finally join us. Once you saved Sheba you must have _swum_ out here, correct?"

He didn't answer.

Alex's smile widened. "You must have seen this island floating while you were _swimming_."

If Felix had been able to throw a decent punch, he might have, just to smack that grin off his sneering face, but his arms weren't listening. He bit his tongue instead, and stared him down.

Alex just smirked, and opened his mouth to say something else gloating, no doubt - but his mocking was cut short by a low rumbling from the ocean. Felix turned to it and saw to his horror a wall of water lurching up out of the sea - it had to be nearly as tall as the lighthouse had been, and it was coming toward them, and fast. He made a halfhearted attempt to get away, but his legs were uncooperative and in the end he could do little more than watch as the shadow loomed over the beach-head, and every fear he hated came to life.

He had just enough time to scream a curse at the roiling waters before the wave engulfed him, covering them all in silence.

* * *

This was really getting old.

Felix lay half-buried on the beach, washed up for the second time in as many days - sorer, hungrier, and significantly more sunburnt - and wondered why fate didn't just kill him already, since it was clearly trying to. He tried to express this displeasure and found he couldn't, his throat wrecked and gritty with sand.

He did the best he could, an embarrassingly high-pitched whining noise, and scowled up at the too-blue sky.

Unfair.

When glaring at the clouds didn't solve his problems, he sighed, and took stock of the situation. He couldn't see the others anywhere, or hear them. They must have been washed elsewhere. Or…

He wasn't thinking about that.

He was still alive. They had to be, too. They had to. And somehow, somehow, everything else be damned, there had to be a way that he could fix this. But how?

Judging by the fact that it felt like he was on his way to forming a permanent dent in his spine, he still had his pack. That was good. His arms still worked, although feebly. He supposed that was something. Groaning, he pushed himself up to inspect the rest.

His legs were in no better shape than his arms - but still attached, so at least he had that going for him. With one unsteady hand he peeled his hair away from his face and tried to think. What next?

The pack.

Getting it off his shoulders was more difficult than sitting had been, but with careful movement and a lot of mumbled oaths he managed.

The Jupiter star was still in there, glinting mockingly in the sun, but he had precious little else. A couple coins; not useful unless they found a place to spend them. The food was all destroyed, though his canteen had a few sips of fresh water left in it and he used this to try to get the sand out of his mouth. It almost worked.

At the bottom Felix found one lone healing herb that had somehow escaped the deluge and crunched it between his teeth, gagging on the bitterness. Not enough, but better than nothing.

When it had kicked in, and knocked the screaming pain down to a level of near-tolerability, he stood - and fell, and stood again - to shake the sand out of his clothes. Feeling slightly less gritty and slightly more human, he gave the sea one last baleful look and slowly staggered away from the coast.

As he limped along, he felt this first lingering bits of his Psynergy start to come back. When he had enough to make a difference, he stopped, and cast Cure. It didn't do much - he wasn't very strong at this, and the only reason he had any ability at all was because the alternative was letting Alex heal him - but as the power built up again he stopped and did the same, and after a few rounds of it he'd finally fixed some of the damage. By the time he spotted Sheba sitting on a hillock, he was walking almost normally, if at a snail's pace. It had given him plenty of chance to observe his surroundings, though, and he didn't like what he saw - none of this geography was familiar.

She'd set herself up on the highest point on the island, and greeted him with a wave. "Felix! I knew you'd make it!"

At least one of them had. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "I've had worse."

He wasn't sure if falling from the lighthouse counted as 'worse,' but then again he didn't know much about her life pre-kidnapping. "How's your gear?"

She gestured to her pack, beside her, and held up… the Shaman's Rod. "Look what washed up!"

It had to be a miracle. For the first time in days he felt like smiling. His joy, however, was short-lived. He knelt down in the grass beside her, muscles screaming in protest, and wondered how to break this. "Sheba…"

"Hmm?"

"The earthquake moved everything. I don't know where we are anymore." He hesitated. "I don't think we can even get back to Lalivero."

She smiled at him, serenely. "Oh, that's all right."

"I think if we - _what?_"

"I'm not going to Lalivero. Not yet, anyway. I'll find it again when I'm meant to. But, Felix…" The smile vanished, and she leaned in, laying one delicate hand on his arm, her voice low and serious. "Felix, you're still going to Jupiter Lighthouse, aren't you?"

If he could figure out where the hell it was, and manage to stay alive long enough to get there. And if Weyard stayed together long enough to let him. "Yes."

"You need to take me with you."

His throat tightened. Why did these people think he was worth following? "Sheba, I know they said we needed a Jupiter Adept, but that doesn't mean you have to -"

She shook her head. "That's not it. It's my destiny."

"Are you feeling all right?" He frowned, and reached a hand for her forehead, but she ignored it.

"Don't you see?" she breathed, "It's fate. There are… things… I've always wanted to know and I _know_ that's where I'll find the answers." Her grip tightened. "You need to promise you'll take me with you."

Those eyes didn't belong to a fourteen-year-old. Who _was_ she?

She kept staring, and it took him too long to find his voice. "What things?"

_"Please."_

In that moment, on a hill at the edge of some godsforsaken island, with the heavy sun beating down on them and pure sincerity shining in her sea-glass eyes, she seemed impossibly childlike and impossibly old and he found that he couldn't imagine saying no to her.

Was that what she meant by fate?

Felix blinked, and suddenly she was an ordinary girl again, sand in her hair and bits of seaweed clinging to her boots. With a sigh he pushed himself to his feet, and held out a hand.

She took it, gleefully, and with her free hand pointed to the horizon, where newly-formed mountains rose against the sky. "The waves pushed this island aground, see? Hurray, Nature!"

Laughing brightly, she skipped off down the hill.

* * *

"Give - it - _back_! I'll turn you into charcoal, you son of a -"

They heard Jenna long before they saw her, spouting a stream of expletives vile enough to blister paint. Felix listened half in a amusement, and half in horror - he certainly hadn't taught her those words.

For a second he wondered if he ought to cover Sheba's ears, but she only grinned. "Ooh, she's not happy, is she?"

Definitely not, but as the torrent of ever-loudening profanity washed over them Felix's spirits rose. If Jenna had enough strength to carry on like that, the tsunami couldn't have hurt her too badly. They followed the shouting all the way to a small clearing and found Jenna - clothing still half-sodden and ponytail well askew - hopping up and down and yelling at a tree.

For a second he though his sister had gone mad, until Sheba tugged his arm, and pointed, and he saw that this particular tree contained some kind of monkey-monster, which happened to be holding Jenna's pack.

"Don't think I won't do it! I'll set this whole forest on fire if I have to!" She drew back her hand, fingers sparking, and might actually have started a forest fire if Sheba hadn't dashed forward and given the tree a sharp smack with her staff.

The thing chittered at her, once, and Sheba brandished it again, Jenna holding handfuls of flame behind her. With one more disgruntled chirp, it dropped her pack. Jenna grinned.

"Thanks! Have you seen -" she started, and then caught sight of him, standing at the edge of the clearing. "Felix!"

She ran to him, seizing him up into a bone-crushing hug. "You're alive!"

It hurt like hell on all the bruises, but Felix let her do it, not missing the way her breath hitched, or the shaky twitching of her shoulders. "Yeah," he said, faintly. "I'm alive."

Jenna's grip around his ribcage tightened and he shifted, trying to breathe. That seemed to bring her to her senses, and she pulled away with a muttered apology, while he pretended not to notice the way she brushed her cheek against his chest as she let go of him, nor the damp spot left behind.

She cleared her throat and scrubbed a hand across her red-rimmed eyes, and then straightened up to face him, shoulders square. "Kraden made it, too - he's that way. I was coming to look for you when that thing attacked me. You're sure you're all right?"

He nodded, and tried to smile, although it pulled the sunburn and ended up as more of a grimace than anything. It must have been convincing enough, however, because she turned to shake her fist at the offending tree - "You're lucky I'm leaving now!" - and led them back the way she'd come.

Kraden had come through it all right. They found him dozing under a tree, mumbling fitfully about lunch.

No one had seen Alex anywhere, but he had a habit of disappearing when things got tricky. Felix wasn't concerned. No doubt he'd teleported himself somewhere safe as soon as the wave struck. He probably hadn't even gotten wet.

Privately, Felix doubted if he'd ever be coming back. He said nothing about this, though, and with the others sat down to make a plan.

* * *

Above all else, one thing was clear: they needed a boat.

Without a boat they had no way of getting to Jupiter lighthouse - Kraden, at least, seemed to have a slight idea of where they needed to be, although he had a scant enough idea of where they were - but, as none of them knew anything about carpentry, without someone who already _had_ a boat to give them they had no way of getting one, and the wilderness wasn't exactly known for having a plethora of roaming boat-owners. They also, as Kraden so helpfully reminded him, hadn't eaten in two days, and along with boats civilization was known to have food.

Thus, they had to make it to civilization. If they could.

They'd unanimously elected Felix as leader, though for what reason he couldn't begin to fathom. His stomach twisted uneasily as he surveyed his ragtag group and tried to think up a strategy. They could all walk, at least, though perhaps not very quickly. Of more concern than walking was what they would be walking through.

"All right," he said. "Let's see. Who has weapons?"

Sheba hefted the Shaman's Rod, again, and Jenna held up a gnarled wooden stick. His own short sword had been a piece of junk even before it met with the ocean, but it would have to do. Kraden had nothing, but Felix expected him to stay out of the fighting anyway.

As for the fighting…

His heart sank. His skills were little better than a child's, and every attempt to improve them had always met swiftly with punishment. Jenna's were the same. He turned to Sheba. "Do you know anything about combat?"

She shook her head. "No. But I can do this!" She waved her hand, and with a loud _crack_ a bolt of lightning snapped out of the sky to strike a nearby rock. Felix jumped, and Jenna laughed and slapped her on the back.

"That's - good," he said, carefully stepping just a little further away. "If anyone attacks us, you just - do that."

Once he recovered, he'd have some useable Psynergy, and Jenna should as well. They'd have to learn the rest as they went along. "Right. We need a boat, and we need supplies. If we stick near the water line, it should take us to a town."

He took a deep breath, and tried to sound more confident than he felt. "Everyone ready?"

They nodded.

He hefted his pack. "Let's go."

* * *

They made decent progress, for all that they had no clue where they were going. Sheba climbed the tallest tree she could find and said she thought she saw smoke to the southwest, so they pressed on in that direction until nightfall.

Jenna sparked a fire to keep away the creatures and Felix took first watch, sitting atop a nearby boulder, his hand to the hilt of his sword. Aside from Jenna's pack, they'd had no incidents, yet, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that it would stay that way.

He'd been peering into the darkness for about an hour when Kraden climbed up to sit next to him, perching carefully at the edge of the rock. "Well," he said, once he'd finally gotten himself arranged. "It's been some day, hasn't it."

Felix laughed, humorlessly. "More like some year." He picked at a loose thread on his glove. "What's_ happening_, Kraden? That second wave that hit us - was that the lighthouse too?"

"I can't say for certain, but - I don't think so." The old scholar's face was grave. "I think that this may be something bigger than we've imagined. We need to light the beacons, yes, but there's something more happening, and we ought to find out what it is. Felix, I am not just saying this for the sake of my master - _we need to know_."

They already had a long list of impossible deeds to take care of. _Why do you bother trusting me?_ he wanted to ask, given how things had gone so far. Instead he looked over to where the flickering firelight cast craggy shadows across Kraden's face, making him look every bit his age, and couldn't bring himself to dash his hopes.

He nodded, slowly, and hoped this promise wouldn't be broken too. "We will."

Kraden glanced down at Jenna and Sheba, lying curled up with their backs to the flames. "When are you going to tell them?"

"I'm not."

"Felix-"

"Lighting the lighthouses goes against everything we were raised to believe. We're betraying our people." He stared into the fire. "When Jenna returns to Vale I want her to honestly be able to say she didn't choose this."

If they thought she was only trying to save her family, they'd probably forgive her. He owed her at least that much.

"And you?"

He didn't have an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

This was not part of the plan.

Piers had known it wouldn't be easy to get out of Lemuria. He'd expected to have to fight the currents, he'd expected to have to dodge the boulders, and he'd prepared himself accordingly. What he hadn't expected was for a veritable tsunami to rise up out of the ocean and try to kill him. Nor had he expected some sort of gargantuan scaly _thing_ to come out of the sea and nearly capsize his ship. It had taken Piers every scrap of energy he had - physical and mental - to keep the ship upright through that damnable wave and through the rushing waters until it had finally run aground. Now he lay sprawled out on the deck, limbs weak and temples pounding, and wishing he'd been just been decapitated. It probably would have hurt less.

He lay there, cursing his luck, as the pounding got louder, and he tried to pretend it didn't exist. If he ignored it, maybe it would stop. It would stop, and then he could figure out where he was, and get the ship moving again - the orb hadn't been damaged, thank the elements; he didn't know what he would do if he had to replace it - and get on with his mission.

The pounding continued, and Piers gradually realized that it wasn't all in his own head.

Damn. Someone else had come aboard the ship. _His_ ship. He scowled.

A shadow fell across his vision. "Up!"

Not much of a greeting. Maybe they didn't have such a thing as manners, out here. Piers squinted up at the intruder. "Pardon?"

The man staring down at him was young - but then, what else had he expected? - sporting unfamiliar clothing and sun-beaten skin, and an oddly satisfied look on his face. "Up!" he repeated.

Whoever this was, Piers decided, he definitely didn't like him. "What do you-"

"I said get _up_, pirate scum!" He emphasized it with a hearty jab to Piers's ribcage, and Piers's scowl deepened.

He'd just begun work up the energy for a scathing retort when the rest of the stranger's words sank in.

_Pirate?_

He had to be hallucinating. After everything else that had happened today, this couldn't be real.

The steadily-growing ache in his side said otherwise. He tried to roll away from the offending foot, now prodding him impatiently, but his muscles had declared mutiny on him and refused to listen. Piers groaned, instead. "I'm not a pirate."

"Yeah, sure. Our village just attacked itself. Get up!" Another jab.

This was starting to annoy him. "Get off my ship."

It would probably have been more effective if he'd been able to do something about it other than twitch pathetically on the deck. The other man only smirked. "Make me."

"Gladly." He clenched his hand into a fist -

\- and stopped. This man was an Outsider, and they'd always said Outsiders were ignorant. He took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself. It wouldn't be fair to pick a fight with this one. "If you've got any sense you'll leave. You honestly have no idea what you're dealing with."

"Oh, I think I do. What's the matter, can't take me without all your buddies to set up an ambush first? Or maybe you only like attacking defenseless girls." He delivered a full-on kick this time, and Piers grunted in pain.

That was _it_.

"You'll regret that." Piers forced one of his hands as high as he could reach, inches off the decking, and tried to call up ice. A few drops of water dribbled harmlessly from his fingertips, splashing onto the wood below.

His antagonist laughed. "You're not so tough now, are you?" He turned away, addressing someone Piers couldn't see. "Tie him up and bring him in! We'll see what the elder has to say about this!"

_Tie him up?!_ No. No no no -

Seemingly out of nowhere, more of them - just as sun-beaten, and nearly as smug - arrived, and none-too-gently began lashing rope around his wrists and ankles.

"Hey-!"

Piers fought as best he could, wracking his mind for any semblance of power and trying not to flinch when it made his head feel like it was about to burst. He tried to punch, to kick, and only managed to stumble into one of them, who hauled him roughly up by the back of his jacket, laughing all the while.

"Look, Shin, this one's feisty!"

This couldn't possibly be happening.

"My ship-"

"It's _our_ ship now, pirate!" Shin grinned, and Piers gave him the best scowl he could, wishing that he had the strength to just freeze the bastard. He'd do it, he decided, if it took him a hundred years. Oh, yes.

Shin snapped his fingers and with that, Piers was unceremoniously hauled away, hanging between them like so much cargo.

He was beginning to understand why his people never went Outside.

* * *

A night's sleep - it hadn't been a good night's sleep, with a rock for a bed and a gnawing empty stomach, but it was better than nothing - helped to put things in perspective, and by the time the sun rose, Felix felt slightly better about their prospects. They had their lives, they had a plan, and all they had to do was get going. His psynergy, such as it was, was more-or-less back to full strength, and even the rest of him didn't hurt quite so bad. Just then, with a pleasant breeze blowing and the sun glowing red and gold on the horizon, it seemed like this whole thing might actually be doable.

All they had left to do was smother the fire. Jenna tossed a handful of dirt on the dying embers and groaned. "I wish we had a Mercury Adept with us. This would be so much faster."

"I don't," muttered Felix.

Sheba yawned, bleary-eyed, and ran a hand through her hair. "I wish we had breakfast with us."

"We might," said Jenna. "Is anything around here edible?" She turned to Felix, expectantly, but he only shrugged. He'd never seen any of the plants around them before. Mentally, he made a note to ask someone once they found a town.

Kraden knelt to inspect one almost promising-looking shrub, but shook his head. "Nothing worth the time. Save your strength for walking. Shall we?"

* * *

They continued southwest, making good time. As the sun rose higher, though thankfully the air stayed reasonably temperate. They had little fresh water left; only Kraden's canteen had any. The last thing they needed was to start sweating.

He kept his hand on his sword-hilt as they walked, scouting the terrain and keeping an eye out for monsters. Jenna walked ahead, weapon to hand, although she was more interested in keeping an eye out for food. The vegetation grew denser as they pressed on, and she stopped to inspect a thicket of odd-looking trees.

"Hey, Kraden," she called, "Are these ones -"

She froze, suddenly silent.

Felix drew his sword. "Jenna?"

She said nothing, just backed away slowly, and when the tall grass around the trees parted they all saw why.

A wolf - or, something that had once been a wolf. This creature stood nearly as tall as Felix's chest, a skulking heap of mangy black fur. With a low growl it turned to them, hackles raised, amber-orange eyes glowing faintly.

Felix swallowed.

He stood absolutely motionless, his heart hammering. "Kraden, Sheba," he hissed. "You stay back. Jenna, when I move, you go back with them. I'll try to distract it."

She moved her chin a mere fraction of an inch, and he tightened his grip on the sword. He had some psynergy - not much - and he tried to focus it. If he could have closed his eyes it would have been easier, but he didn't dare look away.

The stones around their feet rattled, and for a split second the wolf glanced down, bemused.

"Now!" He charged towards it, and from the corner of his eye he saw Jenna running back. He had half a moment to wonder if the plan had worked before the thing was _on him_, all teeth and claws and anger. He swung his sword in desperation, with little more than instinct to try to keep it away from him, but he had no idea what he was doing and the wolf was _fast_.

"Felix!" he heard Jenna yell. "Watch out!"

He ducked, just in time to avoid the jet of flame she sent shooting over his head. The wolf was nearly as fast, though, and it dodged too, enough that Jenna's fireball only glanced its shoulder. The stench of burning hair filled his nostrils and he braced himself for the impact of its teeth -

"Hey, over here!" Another fireball, another miss, and then it rounded on Jenna, snarling. She got one good blow in with her staff before the wolf bit down on the weapon, locking her in a tug-of-war she stood no chance of winning. Felix sprinted towards them - if she could distract it long enough, maybe he could land a hit, get between its ribs, do something -

Behind them, Sheba screamed. "_Get away!_"

She punctuated it with the mental equivalent of a shove, strong enough that Felix grabbed Jenna by the collar and threw them both to the ground before he even knew he'd done it. He looked back to see Sheba - spindly arms outstretched, Shaman's rod brandished overhead - facing down the monster, which growled at her, crimson fangs dripping.

It lunged.

Felix made to get up, to strike at it - for all the good it would have done - but Sheba was still in his head, telling him to _stay down_ and as it ran for her she stood her ground, frantically mouthing something he couldn't hear -

-_CRACK_-

He squeezed his eyes shut against the lightning flash and when he opened them again he saw Sheba, standing stock-still over one very dead wolf.

Kraden recovered from the shock first, ambling over to nudge it with his walking stick. Faint wisps of smoke rose from its stinking fur. "Oh my."

Sheba only stared at it, goggle-eyed. Next to Felix, Jenna let out a slow breath, and they got up to inspect the aftermath. It took a moment for him to remember how words worked. "Are you all right, Sheba?"

Sheba nodded, and Jenna grinned and punched her in the arm. "Good one!"

"I - I didn't know I could do that." She gave a shaky smile and giggled, nervously. "Wow."

Felix tried a smile and couldn't quite manage. That had been too close. They had been lucky. And she could do _that_… Once again he wondered who exactly she was, and when she met his eyes he got the sense that she didn't quite know, either. "You did a good job."

She smiled again, more surely this time. "Thanks."

Jenna's staff had knocked out a few of the monster's teeth; at Kraden's suggestion they picked these up in case they could use them to barter, and headed onward.

* * *

After another hour of walking they finally came upon the village whose smoke they'd seen from a distance. It was called Daila, and it wasn't in much better shape than they were. Puddles of seawater choked the streets, turning everything into a muddy mess, and the air reeked of days-old brine.

They found the inn still functioning, though barely, and exchanged the better part of their remaining coins for a room, fresh water, and bowls of a thin soup consisting of mostly-unfamiliar vegetables. The innkeeper lamented the lack of fish, but after days without, any food was good food.

Thus rejuvenated, they set about to solving their boat predicament. They split up, going out to talk to the villagers and see if there was any chance of finding a boat - though at this point, even if they found one, Felix had no idea how they'd pay for the purchase. When they reconvened for dinner he realized he needn't have worried.

"Any luck?" Jenna asked, settling in next to him.

"None. You?"

She shook her head. "No boats anywhere, and no one who knows where we can find one. Pass the bread?"

Felix handed her the plate. "The people I spoke to said there's another fishing town to the south; they might have a boat _if_ they didn't get hit by the tidal wave." It was a big 'if,' and they all knew it. "Everyone said the road is bad, though, and without a boat there's no way around."

"Sheba," Kraden asked, "What did you find out?"

"No boats. But I picked up some other things from the locals." She popped a bite of flatbread in her mouth, and licked her fingers. "Two kids disappeared in the storm, Mrs. Patel is upset because she can't do her laundry, and I guess there's a big temple south of here with monks that have mysterious powers."

Kraden's brow furrowed. "What kind of powers?"

She waved a hand, dismissively. "They didn't say. But it doesn't matter, because that's not even the interesting part."

Kraden leaned in. "No?"

"They worship this Sea God, and there's a shrine to him around here, and it's haunted!" She grinned. "They can't stop thinking about how dangerous it is. If you ask me, we should go check it out. There's got to be something there."

Felix considered. Jenna was watching him eagerly, but Kraden looked less enthused, and Felix was inclined to agree. With his luck he'd probably only make the gods angry, and this wasn't the time to go sightseeing. "No."

"But don't you want to find out what makes it so spooky?" When that failed to elicit the proper response, she put on a pleading face. "It's the Sea God's shrine - I bet he has a boat!"

"Why would a god need a boat?"

"But maybe he could help us!"

Judging by recent events, Felix highly doubted that. He sighed. "Monks are educated. They should at least have a map. Where did you say this temple is?"

"South. Maybe half a day's walk?" She pouted. "But the Shrine is closer."

He looked out the window, at the pools of water flooding the town, and shook his head. He'd had enough of the sea for quite a while. "No," he said. "We'll go to the temple."


	4. Chapter 4

They set out the next morning with high hopes, intending to find this temple, get a map, and be on their way to wherever seemed the next most likely place to find a boat. They'd just passed the main gate of the village when a voice called out from behind them. "Wait!"

Felix looked around, trying to find who'd spoken, and saw nothing until a small creature hopped out from behind a tree and came bumbling across the path. It stopped in front of them, and squeaked. "Wait!" it repeated, high-pitched and childlike.

It was a little tan and brown thing, standing no higher than his knee, with a small head and a round belly. When it spoke, its voice sounded as though it came from very far away. "Take me with you!"

Felix stared, trying to make sense of it, but to his surprise Kraden pushed forward, and gasped. "Iris!"

"What is it?"

A smile tugged at the edges of his beard. "I think… I think it may be one of the Djinn."

He looked at them, expectantly, but no one answered. Sheba shook her head.

"Elemental beings made of pure psynergy…I'd thought they were only a legend." He adjusted his spectacles and crouched down, peering at the creature. "Fascinating."

The creature spoke again. "When the seal was broken, we were freed. We've been waiting." It turned to Felix. "You are an Adept. If you wish it, we will join with you, and add our power to yours."

The Djinn…he'd heard stories of them, a long time ago, but they were only a myth. With the seal broken, though, and half the lighthouses lit, who was to say what was possible anymore? He wished he remembered more, and frowned. "What do you get out of it?"

"We are small. We cannot make our way alone. We must wait for an Adept."

Felix considered. The pudgy little being didn't look like much of anything, let alone a legendary creature. He knelt next to Kraden to get a better look, and in its eyes he saw an infinite depth of sparkling stars. He shivered.

"If I die," he asked it slowly, "What happens to you?"

"We're set loose, to wait for another Adept to share our power." It fidgeted, hopping from foot to foot. "I'd rather go with you. The wait is boring."

"The Djinn are powerful creatures," said Kraden, "It would be wise to accept their aid."

It looked up at him, and blinked those oddly-fathomless eyes. It couldn't hurt to accept, Felix decided, and held out a hand.

The Djinni flew up to join him, and golden light encircled Felix's fingers, his wrist, until all he saw was golden haze and in his heart there swelled the closest thing to bliss he'd felt in longer than he could remember.

Far too quickly, his vision cleared, and he stood.

_I'm in here,_ said a little voice from somewhere in the back of his head. _My name is Echo. I hold the power of Venus. I'll stay here until you need me. Now let's go!_

* * *

As it happened, the temple didn't amount to much. After too long arguing with the door guards, some breaking and entering, and a trek through an unpleasantly-damp cavern, they finally got…a pebble.

The temple master beamed at them, proudly displaying his three remaining teeth. "It is the secret of our order, handed down for generations! Behold the power of Lash!" He closed his eyes, and next to him a coil of rope unwound itself, and tied its own end around a peg set into the wall.

As far as ancient powers went, Felix supposed it was better than nothing. Next to him, Jenna looked positively murderous. Sheba just stared.

"Ah," Kraden said. "It is quite lovely, but…would you happen to have a map?"

The master merely smiled, and waved a hand. "Goodness, no. We have long since given up on worldly concerns. The only map that matters is the map within one's self. _Ommmmm_…"

They left him to his meditation, and exited the temple - by proper means, this time. Felix looked at the pebble in his hand, and sighed. Perhaps the trip had been a waste of time. They'd come for a map and got a pebble. He didn't realize he'd said the last bit out loud until Jenna spoke up.

"Not quite." She rifled through her pack and held up a small card, covered in arcane symbols. "I also found _this!_"

"What is it?" Sheba asked.

Jenna shrugged. "Dunno. I kind of like it, though."

Felix turned to Kraden. "Can you read it? Is it anything dangerous?"

The scholar shook his head. "It seems safe enough. I've never heard of cards being used for curses."

"If no one else wants it, I'm keeping it," she declared, and tucked it into the top of her boot for safekeeping. "Maybe it'll bring us luck!"

With that thought in mind, they headed back the way they'd come.

* * *

If there actually were such a being as the Sea God, Felix decided, he was going to find him and kick him in the face. Repeatedly. They'd trudged through stones and mud, they'd slogged through even more water, they'd nearly fallen to their deaths on precariously-fastened climbing ropes, and they were no closer to finding a boat than they had been that morning.

At Sheba's insistence, they'd stopped at the shrine. Their new rope trick had allowed them to come to the rescue of two small boys caught on a high ledge—Felix guessed that they were probably the missing kids Sheba had mentioned earlier—and they'd found a Jupiter Djinni hiding among the cliffs, along with a handful of coins and what appeared to be a smoke bomb, but no watercraft of any kind.

Bruised, sore, and slightly soggy, they returned to Daila in defeat. Though it was getting to be late in the evening, a large crowd of people had gathered at the center of town, talking excitedly. He saw the innkeeper's wife on the fringes of the group, and tapped her on the shoulder. "What's happening?"

"It's Madra, to the south. They've captured the Champa pirate! We don't have to worry about raids anymore! Oh, I have to tell mother, she was so worried -" She hurried away, and Felix watched her, nonplussed.

Jenna elbowed him. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"This is great news!"

He'd clearly missed something. "Why?"

"Didn't you hear her?" Sheba said. "They've got a pirate! We should see if he can help us."

Maybe this was too much for her, and she'd finally cracked. Felix turned to Kraden - surely he'd be sensible - but the old man merely nodded. "It's worth a try."

That was it. They'd all gone mad. "A pirate. You want us to seek help from a pirate."

Jenna shrugged. "Why not? You can't be a pirate without a boat."

* * *

Piers was beginning to wish he actually _were_ a pirate. A pirate would have had a whole crew of shipmates to break him out of this place. A pirate would have an escape plan at the ready. And if that failed, a pirate would have absolutely no problem with killing his captors in order to break free.

Fortunately for his jailers, Piers was definitely not a pirate. Unfortunately for Piers, they refused to believe this fact.

"I'm telling you!" he repeated for the dozenth time. "Did you see anyone else there? Have you ever even heard of a pirate ship with a crew of one?"

Belatedly, he noticed he'd been rattling the bars to his cell, and he let go of them as the mayor looked on, unimpressed. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and tried to appear reasonable and not at all piratical. "How could I possibly ransack your village all by myself?"

The mayor's face took on a thoughtful cast, but next to him, Shin refused to let up. "That just means they escaped! They're waiting to attack us again! We should make an example of him!"

The mayor held up a hand. "No."

Piers let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Shin, leave us," the mayor said, and the other man obliged. Piers wasn't sorry to see him go. "If you're not a pirate, what brings you here?"

Finally, reason. "I'm a -" How to explain this? He settled for the almost-truth. " - a mapmaker. I wasn't supposed to be here. My ship got caught in the tidal wave. You need to let me out."

The mayor considered this, deliberately looking him over, and Piers hoped that whatever their pirates looked like it wasn't much like him. A stabbing pain throbbed just behind his temples, and it took everything he had not to show it. He could have escaped, easily, if his abilities were working, but after spending a few hours in a dazed half-sleep and another few trying to talk his way out of this he still had next to nothing to work with.

Food would have helped, would have restored at least some of his strength and with it his psynergy, but there was apparently a shortage and everyone was doing without. They said he'd get breakfast tomorrow. He hoped he'd be out by then.

At last the mayor spoke. "I believe you."

He sagged with relief. "Thank you. I'll be on my way-"

The mayor sighed. "I'm afraid it's not that simple."

"_What?_" He rushed the bars, grabbing them and shaking for all the good it did, and had he been able to do something in that moment he would have. "What do you mean, 'not that simple'?"

"You've seen how they are. The pirate raids already had them all worked up and now Shin's got them in a frenzy. The instant I let you out there'll be a mob calling for both our heads."

His grip tightened. "So I am to be kept here? Indefinitely?"

"Not indefinitely. Not even very long, if everything works out. Just until we can convince them that you're not Champa. It's for your own safety as much as anything."

He would have protested - even the whole town wouldn't have mattered, if he were at full strength - but he was still weak, and if some pirate attacks had them this paranoid there was no telling what would happen if he started throwing psynergy around. "How long will that take?"

"Hopefully, not long. We captured the Champa leader once, but his kinsmen mounted an attack and set him free. We know where he's hiding, and if we can bring him in it should be easy enough to show that you're not one of his men."

"My ship-"

"Oh, your ship won't be damaged. I'll make sure it's kept safe."

He said it lightly, too lightly. What had he been thinking, Piers wondered, journeying out here? These people couldn't possibly understand -

He took a deep breath, and tried to find his patience. "In the ship's hold there is an - orb. A black orb. It's more important than the ship or anything else. Swear on your life you'll keep it safe."

The mayor shot Piers a strange look, and a tendril of panic coiled around his stomach. He thought of roiling oceans, of shattering glaciers, and it would be _so easy_ if only he could have done it. He stood up to his full height, yanking at the bars. "Swear!"

"All - all right. I swear."

Piers stared him down, silently, until the mayor broke eye contact and looked down at his hands. Piers did the same, and saw that a thin film of frost had crept across his fingernails, the most that he could manage. He turned his hands, hiding it from view, and glared. You don't know what you're dealing with, he thought desperately, and please don't make me show you.

The mayor seemed to have same idea, and swallowed. "The orb will be kept safe." With one last critical glance he left, and Piers let go of the bars to sink down in the corner, head on hands on knees.

He had no choice but to wait.

* * *

They started the next morning without a clear plan. Jenna, Sheba, and Kraden were all for heading south immediately in search of the pirate they'd heard about, but Felix hesitated. Pirates weren't exactly known for their generosity. On the other hand, they needed a boat, and badly, and he had no better alternatives.

Amid a chorus of "Let's go, let's go!" and "Pirate pirate pirate pirate!" he decided to talk to the mayor of Daila first. None of the townsfolk they'd spoken to had known much, and he hoped that perhaps the mayor knew something else about this alleged captive that they could use. They headed up the steps to the mayor's house and were just about to knock at the door when it opened from the inside, and a familiar figure came striding out.

Felix stopped dead. "Alex."

Alex stopped, too, and looked at them quizzically. If he found the greeting anything less than friendly he made no indication. "Felix," he said. "Well, well…our happy little family is back together again."

Felix's eyes narrowed. He'd never had any doubt that Alex had survived, but for him to _come back_…

Before he could reply Jenna strode forward. "That's all you have to say? You left us! Where have you been?"

Alex's voice was calm, his face the picture of innocence. "To find a ship, of course."

"And did you find one?" asked Kraden

Would you tell us about it if you did? thought Felix, but said nothing.

He shook his head, gave a labored sigh. "Unfortunately, there are none to be had. The mayor recommends that we check the large town to the south of us."

"We?" said Felix. Near-unconsciously, his hand drifted toward the hilt of his sword. Alex's gaze followed.

"Ah, yes, about that. I have been meaning to tell you." He lingered on Felix's sword-hand a moment longer before looking back up, deceptively serene. ""I think it's time for our little arrangement to come to an end. You've certainly proven yourselves to be quite capable, hm? You should have no further troubles on your own. And I…I prefer to work alone."

I _bet_ you do, Felix thought, and wondered just what the game was here. Alex met him stare-for-stare, inscrutable as ever.

"Well, then," Kraden said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Far be it for us to keep you."

"Quite," said Alex, answering him with a smile that was just about as convincing, and turned to leave. "Perhaps you'll see me in Madra."

Next to him, Jenna mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like _I hope not_, but Alex never broke stride, heading down the steps and through the town gate without a backward glance. Felix watched him go, until he was little more than a blue spot against the trees and dust, and turned to Sheba.

"This town to the south," he said. "We're _sure_ they've captured a pirate?"

She nodded. "I heard from Mrs. Patel that one of their own elders came here with the news. It's all anyone's thinking about. Why?"

He smiled grimly. "I think we have a plan."

* * *

Before they could head south, they had one last stop to make. Although small, Daila did boast a weaponsmith and an armorer, both of whom had been sensible enough to store their inventories out of the way of errant seawater, for which Felix was grateful. If he and the others were going to head deeper into the wilderness, they needed something better than an old stick and a rusted antique.

"I like this one!" said Jenna, hefting one of the swords.

Felix raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know how to use that?"

She whirled around and leveled the blade at him, the tip inches from his nose. "Do you?"

He had to admit she had a point.

In the end, Jenna swapped her chewed-up tree branch for a well-worn but sturdy short sword, and Felix was able to exchange his tarnished piece of junk for something that might actually stand a chance against an enemy, if he could figure out what he was meant to be doing. He'd offered it to Sheba, first, but she'd taken one swing and declared the balance to be impossible. She stuck with the trusty Shaman's Rod.

Surprisingly, the wolf's teeth and their hodgepodge of random findings got them all equipment with money to spare, and a promise of more coins if they brought back any other curious things. Felix didn't plan on coming back.

They had a pirate to find.


	5. Chapter 5

_His relief at not dying is short-lived. The cataclysm at Mount Aleph had far-reaching effects, and everywhere they turn monsters have sprung up out of the wilderness. They're terrible abominations, perversions of the animals that used to wander freely. It's something to do with Psynergy, he hears his captors saying, but what matters is that it's more than they can handle._

_"We need help." The man's name is Saturos. He's big, taller by a head than Dad, and covered in blue-green scales. He speaks calmly, now, voice low and even. It would be pleasant if Felix hadn't heard it threatening them before._

_"We can't." The woman is Menardi. She stands only a little shorter than her partner, pink and fuchsia to his blue-green, all scales and teeth and well-muscled arms, and as she speaks she leans in, insisting on something that Felix can't quite hear._

_They're halted, none-too-happily, in a clearing near the river. Saturos has a bleeding lip, a slowly-oozing cut on his arm. Menardi survived unbloodied, but she's bruised and—more dangerously— angry._

_Their healer, apparently, has abandoned them._

_The argument gets louder. She gestures, unsubtly, at Felix. "Do you want to wake up with a knife in your back?"_

_Saturos is unmoved. "Do you want him dead? Where are we going to find another one?"_

_This gives her pause._

_"Fine," she snarls, and pulls something out of her pack - a short sword, its scabbard burnt, its hilt warped and twisted. It belonged to one of her comrades, he knows, one of the raiding party who didn't survive the initial attack._

_They turn to look at him almost in unison, red eyes unreadable and unnerving. He wants to duck his head, hunch his shoulders—become invisible—but it's too late._

_They're already plotting._

_"You. Come here." She holds it out to him, and he hesitates. He doesn't have to pull the blade to know it would be next to useless in a confrontation. She has to know it, too. "You keep this with you and use it only if we're under attack. One wrong move and you're an orphan. You understand?"_

_He opens his mouth to say something—to protest, somehow—but behind her he catches a glimpse of his mother, shaking her head minutely._

_He nods, instead, and takes the blade._

* * *

Felix scrubbed a hand across his eyes and stared out at the trees. In front of him, the fire slowly burned itself down. It was well past midnight, not yet dawn. Since leaving Daila, things had been more or less quiet - a couple monstrous rats, nothing bigger than knee-high - but he'd heard it was worse to the south.

He looked down at the sword in his hand, better than its predecessor, and wondered if it would have made a difference, then.

Next to him, Sheba stirred fitfully. "Felix?" she mumbled, eyes still closed. "Wha's goin' on? Somethin' happen? Saturos an' Menardi…"

He froze. He hadn't known she could mind read in her sleep.

"No," he whispered back, and tried to make his thoughts stay quiet. "Everything's fine."

Her brow furrowed, and she muttered something unintelligible in response, voice muffled by her shawl, which she'd turned into a makeshift blanket.

A bead of cold sweat trailed down his spine. He licked suddenly-dry lips and forced his voice to steady. "Go back to sleep."

With another wordless murmur, she did just that. He sighed heavily and considered the sword again, his grip tightening. A better tool than he had before, if only he could use it.

He'd just have to learn.

* * *

He started on it the next morning, trading his and Jenna's swords for stout sticks—safer, in the hands of two near-beginners—and setting to work on practice drills. He remembered a little, very little, from his childhood, although then it had been more of a game than anything. Vale wasn't known for its warriors. He walked Jenna through the patterns anyway, figuring it was better than nothing.

Once she'd got the basics, he left her to it, and turned to Sheba, who looked at him expectantly, Shaman's Rod in hand. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I don't know anything about staves."

"That's all right." She hopped to her feet, shifting a little as she tested her balance. "Attack me, like what you were doing with Jenna? I want to try something."

He gave her a questioning look. The staff was half as tall again as she was.

"Pleeeease?"

In answer, he started in slowly, an overhanded strike that she blocked with ease, though once she had it took her a bit to figure out what to do next. He attacked once more, striking for one of her hands, and she blocked again, more surely this time, and half-hesitantly struck back at him. He dodged, and redoubled.

They continued, increasing the pace very gradually, and as they did she grew more confident in her counterattacks. He was moving in for another one when he felt it, somewhere in the back of his head—

—a slight presence, almost unnoticeable, pressing on his mind—

—and mischief glinting in her eyes. Ah. For a moment he threw all his focus into that, trying to keep her out, and as he did she swung her staff, striking low and deep. He made to block, not fast enough—

—and found himself on his back, staring up at the sky. "Good job," he wheezed.

She beamed. "Thanks."

* * *

Five days.

Piers had been in here _five days_.

He'd never thought five days could feel like a long time. He'd never counted days before. He paced the borders of his cell—six steps one way, seven the other—and seethed, wary of coming too near the bars. They didn't like that.

They didn't like a lot of things, these Outsiders. He looked strange. He talked strange. His name was strange. His ship didn't make sense. He'd pointed out that they made no sense to him and it only annoyed them further. He was glad, now, that he'd insisted the mayor safeguard the Orb; it never would have survived otherwise.

His power had started to come back, albeit slowly. He'd had enough time, now, to sleep off the last of the exhaustion, and they fed him a bowl of rice every morning, carefully slid through a small opening in the bars. He hadn't yet convinced them to include a spoon.

Unfortunately the renewed energy made his confinement chafe all the worse. He'd have given nearly anything to be back on the deck of his ship—his, although he'd only captained her for a short while—and heading somewhere away from here. For once his people's edicts on isolation were starting to make sense. These Outsiders were nothing more than children.

Nonetheless, he tried his best to stay civil, to convince them he wasn't a threat. He'd considered trying, perhaps, to force his way out—but they _were_ children, and ignorant ones at that, and once he'd realized that he couldn't bring himself to harm them. For now.

He only hoped he could get out soon.

* * *

They made decent time, heading southward, and Felix was starting to think that the warnings about the damaged road had been exaggerated when the grass thinned out before them into a plateau of dusty yellow-brown clay. Someone had helpfully carved steps into the rock, long ago, and they reached the top of these to see more of the same, flat sunbaked dirt spread out and stretching to the horizon.

He stopped short. It looked perfectly fine—dry, at least, and its open planes didn't even leave much room for monsters to hide—but something about it felt wrong. "Wait!" he called.

He stepped forward slowly, eyes to the ground. His stomach clenched. It just wasn't _right_, somehow.

"What is it?" Jenna asked.

Wordlessly, he reached out to borrow Kraden's walking stick, and jabbed at a particularly suspect spot. With a dusty whoosh, it collapsed inward, revealing a hole in the ground below.

Jenna gaped.

"It's crumbling," he said. "The floodwaters must have opened up a sinkhole."

They all backed away from it, carefully. So much for making good time.

* * *

"What do you think our pirate's name is?" Jenna asked. She sat perched on a boulder, kicking her heels against the rock. She'd waited quietly at first, but after an hour of nothing she'd finally given in and begun to fidget.

"Hmmm," said Sheba. She was fidgeting too, walking carefully along the edge of the terrace where they stood, her arms stuck out for balance, and the only reason that Felix didn't stop her was because at least she'd stopped hopping back and forth over the sinkhole they'd opened up. "It has to be something exotic. Like… Roscoe."

"Nah, he's a pirate. It needs to be tougher."

"Oh." She paused in her balancing act to think, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. "Knifelegs? Stabhands? Bloodfist?"

"Those are even worse!"

Kraden cleared his throat. "If I may? How about… Deathbeard, Scourge of the Open Sea?"

"Ooh, I like it!" Jenna raised her hand in mock salute. "To Deathbeard!"

Felix crouched ahead of them, one hand to the earth. If he concentrated just so, and focused his psynergy, he could almost see the weak spots underground. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the distractions. "Do you mind?"

It bought him all of a minute before they started up again.

"I bet he's all tan and leathery!" said Sheba.

"I bet he's seven feet tall with a huge beard and rippling muscles!"

"Maybe he kidnaps fair maidens and ravishes them!" She sighed, hopefully.

Jenna laughed. "Not you. Deathbeard doesn't go after kids."

Sheba stuck her tongue out, and Jenna flicked sparks at her in answer, which she dodged with a yelp.

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. "No one's ravishing anybody. And he's not _our_ pirate." He stood. "I think I've figured out the way through."

* * *

Felix's senses got them most of the way across the plateau, although near the end he'd used too much power, and they had to resort to prodding at the ground, which worked until one particularly treacherous section when his boot had met the dirt and kept on going.

Much to their luck, though, the sinkhole had contained a Djinni—Mars, this one—and an odd little cube that they'd given to Jenna for safekeeping. When they eventually clawed their way out, covered in dirt and coughing, Felix wasn't sad to leave the place behind.

Finally, after several more days of walking, and practicing, although he couldn't actually tell if they were getting any better or if he was just getting worse, they saw smoke on the horizon, and headed eagerly towards it. After the plateau, it was refreshing to be able to walk without having to think about every step.

Guards, clad in timeworn, pitted armor, stood at either side of the town gate. Felix made to approach them and quickly found a spear blocking his path. "Halt!"

Before he could say anything, both soldiers rushed them, coming in close. His hand reached for his sword, but they made no move to draw their own weapons, and after a moment of close staring they drew back.

"Pardon me," asked Kraden, "Is there a problem?"

The guards looked at each other.

"Inspection," said one, finally. "But you're not Champa. You can go through."

"Champa?"

"Pirates." He spat. "They attacked us and took everything that wasn't nailed down."

"Don't want them coming back for more," said the other.

Felix frowned. "We'd heard you captured a pirate, though."

"They took him, too."

His heart sank. They were too late. They'd been so close… he turned to the others, wondering just what they were going to do now, when the first guard continued, "All we got now is the weird guy from that other boat."

Other boat? He turned back. "Where?"

The guard jabbed his thumb in the direction of a squat brick building to the west, where two more men guarded the door. Felix said a hurried thanks, and they made their way over. It was a jail, he realized, bars over the window and door.

If they were lucky, it also held the solution to their problems. He peered into the barred window, set high in the wall. Only one of the cells was occupied, though it was hard to make out the prisoner. As he watched, the man shifted a little, into the light. His hair was blue.

Felix nearly fell over in shock. _Alex?_

No.

He looked more closely, and saw that it wasn't. The prisoner was dressed far more lightly than Alex ever did, in clothes of a strange design. He had broader shoulders, a squarer jaw. Taller, too, Felix thought, although it was hard to tell. He sat in the far corner of the cell, one leg folded up in front of him. And, Felix noticed, he looked positively miserable.

Sheba, on her tiptoes, put voice to what everyone was thinking. "_That's_ our pirate?"

Jenna pouted. "I was expecting at least an eyepatch."

"Shh!" Felix hissed, before anyone could hear them, and gestured toward the door. "Let's go."

* * *

"Admit it!" Shin glared at him from outside the cell, arms crossed. "You're one of the Champa, aren't you?"

They'd been through this already. They'd been through this a dozen times over the past two weeks, and if they had to go through it again it was going to drive him mad.

"You already know that I am not." Piers spoke slowly, trying to keep calm. If Shin got bored he'd leave him be.

"Where'd you come from, then? Never seen a blue-haired freak like you before."

Or not. Shin had a friend with him today; he must have been showing off. Piers took a deep breath. Calm. He just had to keep calm. "I have already told you. The heart of the Eastern Sea."

"Yeah, right! There's nothing there but rocks!" With the town leaders gone, Shin was free to do as he pleased, which apparently meant harassing Piers. He'd been in every day since the mayor had left, poking and prodding and goading.

Piers stared him down. His head throbbed, and it would be easy now, too easy, to put a stop to this. He kept it hidden as best he could, looking coolly ahead, and not so much as budging when the door opened and even more people made their way in. The rest of Shin's audience, no doubt.

Shin took no notice of them, either. "Where'd you steal the ship from? You can't build one of those on a hunk of rock!" He scoffed. "It's a weird ship, too. None of your maps make any sense—some mapmaker you are!"

Piers jumped to his feet. They'd _gone through his ship?!_ Uncivilized _savages_—

His shoulders tensed, straining with the effort of keeping control. "Stop," he growled, holding out a hand as much for his sake as theirs. "I implore you, do not anger me. Just—stop."

Shin grinned. "Or what?"

Shin's friend had begun to back away. "Uh, maybe you should go easy on him…"

"It wasn't your girlfriend who got hurt!" He turned back to Piers. "Don't anger you or what? You'll go take it out on more innocent girls? Can't do that in here, can you?"

He could feel his hands getting colder, and forced his voice to steady. "I am sorry she was injured, but—"

Shin rounded on him, rattling the bars. "I don't want your sympathy, freak! I want you to get angry!"

Do you? he thought, and deep down in him a very small voice said, well then, why not.

Before he had a chance to think the power roared up in him, desperate for release, and he couldn't bear to stop it any longer—

—a cascade of ice shot from his hands and struck home, freezing and snapping and crushing—

—_finally_—

A scream.

The sound broke his concentration, and he drew back his hands sharply, unheeding of the commotion beyond the bars. What was he doing?

When he'd gotten it under control, he looked up to find that Shin had fled. Not hurt, then. Not permanently, anyway. Piers did his best to hide his relief.

Shin's friend still stood there, staring at him in horror. "W-what are you?"

His eyes narrowed. "What did your friend expect?"

"M-monster!"

Is that what his people were to these Outsiders? He'd gladly be a monster if it separated them from him. He smiled, slowly.

Without a word, Shin's friend turned and ran.

Piers watched him go, and then settled back into the far corner of his cell, eyes closed and knees drawn up in front of him.

Perhaps now they'd leave him alone.

* * *

_That_ was quite possibly the last thing he'd expected to happen. Felix stared, still pressed against the wall where the two men had shoved him when they made their escape. Next to him, Kraden was just as shocked. "Was that -?"

Felix could only look at him, wide-eyed.

Jenna elbowed Sheba in the ribs. "Sheba! Do the thing!"

She squeezed her eyes shut and went still, as they all watched with bated breath.

"Can you tell anything?" Kraden asked, after she'd been silent for a while.

"He's definitely an Adept… but there's not much else…a lot of it doesn't make sense." Her brow furrowed. "He's… been here a while. He's got a boat—excuse me, a _ship_—"

She jerked her head suddenly, breaking the connection, and opened her eyes, breathless. "It's confusing—I think—he might not even be a pirate. I can't tell. For a second I thought he recognized my psynergy, but…" She bit her lip. "He's from somewhere far away, but I don't know where. I don't know what he's doing here."

Far away…there was a Mercury clan based in the north, Felix knew, but with the exception of Alex he didn't think they traveled much. They certainly weren't known for seafaring.

He approached the bars and crouched in front of the prisoner, who surveyed him warily. Next to him a pillar of ice still stood, glistening in the heat. "Where are you from?" he asked.

"It matters not. You won't believe me." For a moment he looked up and caught Felix's gaze. His eyes were amber-gold. More than anything, the sadness in them struck him.

Alex wasn't capable of sadness.

He swallowed. "I think we would."

"You wouldn't. You've no idea. You've no _possible_ idea-" He cut himself off, abruptly, and turned away with a groan. "When will the mayor return and end my imprisonment?"

They stayed in the jail a while longer, trying their best to get any other information from him, but he said nothing more. As they all headed back to the inn, the others chattered excitedly, but Felix stayed silent, his head spinning.

Their pirate was an Adept.

This changed everything.

* * *

_Felix dreams of water._

_An endless sea, black as pitch, engulfs him, crushing against his chest and threatening to drag him down. The cold stabs him like a knife._

_He breaks the surface, barely, and above his head the stars don't shine. He finds himself awash in a field of ice. The waves crash and he's knocked the against floes, thrown around like a rag doll and powerless to make it stop._

_No, he says, tries to say, tries to scream, but no sound escapes. All around him there's only the ocean and the ice, seizing him and pulling him down into the dark._


	6. Chapter 6

After a night of tossing and turning, Felix gave in and got up shortly after dawn, making his way out to the inn-yard. The air was cool yet, and slightly humid, and most of all blessedly quiet. He hoped it would stay that way. He needed to think.

Kraden was there already, sitting on a low wooden bench, one hand wrapped around a steaming cup of milky tea. "Shouldn't you still be sleeping?" he asked Felix, even as he slid over to make room.

"Shouldn't you?" Felix took a seat next to him, leaning back against the packed-earth wall of the inn, already starting to heat up under the light of the fledgling sun.

"Fair enough." Kraden gave a pointed glance in the direction of the jail. "What's your plan?"

He said nothing at first, absentmindedly scratching along his jawline, where new-grown stubble itched. He added that to his list of things to fix at some point, in between finding a boat, keeping everyone alive long enough to use said boat, and dealing with the new set of complications that had just been flung at them in the form of a mysterious, ice-wielding, possibly piratical, probably antagonistic prisoner.

Finally, Felix said, "He's an Adept."

"And?"

And they had no idea who he was, apart from that. He gave Kraden a sidelong glance. "He'll have to know what we're doing."

"And?"

How many more people were they going to drag into this? How many more lives-

How many other choices did they have? He looked away. "What makes you think he'll be on our side?"

Kraden took a slow sip of his tea. "What makes you think he won't?"

* * *

In a cramped cell in the Madran jail, Piers also rose with the dawn. He'd tried not to, tried to sleep for as long as he could to make the days pass more quickly (and when had he ever wanted such a thing before? He was surely going mad) but the lone window in the room faced east, and there was nothing for it. As soon as the light hit him, he rose, and groaned, and withdrew to the far corner, still safely in the shade. He curled up there and tried to pretend this wasn't real.

He stayed there for quite a while, moving only when someone came in with the customary rice, and retreating to the corner afterward. Later he'd get up and move about, but pacing too long made his head spin.

Everything was wrong out here, he decided, gazing dully at the flat patch of sky which he could just make out through the tiny window. The people were slow-witted and childish, the sun was too hot, too bright—even the air was wrong. It smelled of damp earth, not salt, and this too was an aggravation.

He'd started to dream that the walls were closing in.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to be in the open air, on the open water, on his ship, ages away from here. He was supposed to keep moving, to check the maps and make the notes and above all else bring the news with him back home. He'd once wanted, more than anything, to see past the Sea of Time—but he hadn't wanted _this_.

How foolish he'd been.

A sound from the doorway broke his reverie, and he looked toward the door, confused. Had Shin come back so soon?

No, he realized, as a figure stepped out of the shadows, not Shin. Nor the guards.

One of the strangers from yesterday, back again. Piers didn't bother standing to greet him. His visitor crouched in front of the bars, as he had the day before, angular face half-hidden behind the collar of his cloak. His eyes were deep brown, Piers noticed, a color that didn't exist in Lemuria.

They stared at each other.

At long last the other man spoke. "I talked to the townspeople," he said, in a low voice that Piers could almost imagine being pleasant. "Apparently not everyone thinks you're a pirate."

A lot of good that did him.

"Can you tell me where you're from? It's important."

No it wasn't. Piers stared him down.

The stranger leaned in. "Are you from Imil? Do you belong to a clan?"

He'd never heard of Imil, and was about to say as much, but something about the way this Outsider said "clan," gave him pause—but no, it couldn't be. Apart from that… thief, no one knew about them. No one _should_ know—what was this one plotting? His eyes narrowed. "Do you always speak nonsense, or have I simply gotten lucky?"

As soon as he said it he wished he hadn't. He saw a flash of _something_ in those dark eyes and looked away briefly, ashamed. He'd been here too long; their manners were starting to rub off on him.

Piers waited for the inevitable angry reply, but the other man only sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told Kraden this was a bad idea," he muttered.

No further explanation was forthcoming.

He stayed like that a moment, brow furrowed—thinking, though about what Piers had absolutely no idea—and scrubbed a hand across his face. Eventually, he said, "You're not a pirate."

Fair enough. "No."

"You have a boat."

"A ship."

"You won't say where you're from."

Silence.

Who _was_ this person, Piers almost wondered, and then reminded himself it didn't matter. None of this did.

The stranger regarded him impassively, and as the moments crept by Piers became painfully aware of how pathetic he himself must have looked, how grimy and disheveled, and the shame made the back of his neck burn. Indignity, on top of everything else. He told himself that didn't matter, either, but some part of him said maybe it did.

In the end, though, Piers said nothing, and the other man said nothing, and soon enough he rose and made for the door. He turned back at the threshold, as though he were about to speak, but then he appeared to think better of it and stopped himself, departing in silence and leaving Piers all alone.

* * *

Felix left the jail, mind reeling. He'd gone to the jail expecting to find—something. A reason to trust him. A reason to leave him be. Instead he'd only gotten more unknowns. Not a member of any clan? That might be a good thing… or it meant he was some kind of rogue. He hadn't seemed very roguish, though, half-silent and penned in behind the bars.

Even with the jail well behind him, Felix couldn't get the image out of his head.

I know what it's like, he'd wanted to tell him. I know what it's like.

When he returned to their room at the inn, he found Jenna sitting on the floor, the strange card and the odd little cube they'd gotten laid out in front of her, as Sheba and Kraden looked on, expectant.

"What are you doing?" he asked, dropping his pack near the door.

"There's something up with these," she said, without looking at him. "It reminds me of that pebble we got. It's like…"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I kind of want to…" She picked the cube up, closed her hand around it. "Sheba, move over."

She did, and Jenna pointed to where she'd been sitting. "See that loose nail?"

He nodded.

"I can't explain it, but I think…" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

_SLAM_

He saw, just barely, a ghostly force reach out, and pound against the floor. When he went over to inspect it, the nail lay flush against the boards. Felix raised an eyebrow, and Jenna held up the little cube, grinning. "Aha! I guess we know what you do, now!"

He looked back to the pounded-down nail, impressed. Definitely a more useful trick than the pebble had given them. He wondered if it could be used in combat.

"Do the other one, do the other one!" said Sheba.

Jenna laughed. "Not so fast, miss bossy! I still don't know what this thing does."

Sheba stuck out her tongue.

She tucked the card away and with a sigh she turned to Felix. "Find out anything new?"

He sat at the edge of one of the beds, elbows resting on his knees. "Some of the townsfolk think he's innocent. The mayor thought so too; the pirate that raided this place fled to another town, so the mayor's gone after him. A lot of people think the prisoner helped with it, though. I couldn't get any information out of him."

Kraden cleared his throat. "Can you shed any light on it, Sheba?"

She'd gone out earlier to do some mind reading, but she shook her head, suddenly serious. "I don't know. I don't think he's a pirate, but I can't tell what he's doing here. All he thinks about is getting out."

Jenna waved a hand. "It doesn't matter _what_ he is, he has the only boat around. What are we gonna do about it?" Before Felix had a chance to answer, a devilish grin spread across her face, and she held out the cube. "Jailbreak?"

Sheba's eyes lit up. "Jailbreak!"

"No!" said Felix, to pouts all around. "Half the town want him dead. If we break him out they'll want us dead, too."

"You're no fun," she muttered.

"You said the mayor went to another town?" Kraden said.

He nodded. "To the east. I don't know how far. He's the only one with the authority to free the prisoner."

Jenna slumped, dejected. "I guess we're stuck waiting here, then. At least there's curry."

That there was, bright red and delicious after days of increasingly-stale bread. Did they have curry where the prisoner was from, Felix wondered, and he thought again about sadness and ice and iron bars, and finally made the choice. "No."

The others stared.

"He's the only prospect we have. We're not leaving it to chance." He met their eyes, resolute at last. "We have to help him."

* * *

It was one thing to decide to help, but another to actually go through with it. Nonetheless, after an afternoon of questioning, some careful negotiation, and several rants about "no good pirate dogs," he had a strategy to go on and—best of all—a map to go with it.

He returned to the inn and found the others much as he'd left them before, though now Jenna held the card in front of her face, glowering at it intently. She was starting to go cross-eyed."What's the plan?"

In answer, he brushed their things aside and unfurled the map.

"Alhafra." Felix jabbed his finger at a tiny dot near the edge of the grubby parchment. The map, which showed Madra, Alhafra, and not much else, had taken a lot of their coin, and supplies had taken most of the rest, but if it all went to plan they could be there in a week, and hopefully back out of Madra by boat in two. "The people I spoke to said the bridge is out, so we'll have to take this route instead…"

"Across the desert?" said Sheba. "Sounds nice. It was so cold last night." She shivered, and Jenna shot her a strange look.

"I think that was just you."

Felix ignored them. "That's where the mayor's going. He took the elders with him, and some of the councilmen…none of them are Adepts, none of them are soldiers." His ragtag group wasn't much better, but at least they had psynergy on their side. It might be enough, he reasoned, to back up another group if need be. "Even if they make it there unharmed, the pirate's gotten away from them once already. We'll do our best to stop it from happening again."

"You think we can take on a pirate?"

He hoped it wouldn't come to that. "I think we have to try."


	7. Chapter 7

They left Madra in the morning, heading east. By evening, they'd arrived at the area Felix now knew to be the Osenia cliffs, gateway to the sea. The land here was greener than Madra had been, grassy plains that eventually dropped off into a sheer rockface, with nothing but air all the way down to the ocean many feet below. A few craggy spires jutted up out of the water to the east, making a precarious bridge across the strait. Felix eyed the stone with hesitation. They'd have to cross it tomorrow.

Once they'd made it down to the lowest plain, Sheba ran straight to the edge, unburdened by any such misgivings. A group of Madrans was there already, fishing poles in hand, pointing to something out at sea. She looked with them, and then beckoned to the others. "Look!"

Jenna and Kraden hurried over, but Felix followed more slowly, and hung back from the edge until Sheba grabbed him by the arm and pulled. "Look!" she repeated, urgently.

He inched closer, paying careful attention to his footing. One wrong step and he'd be down there, suffocating under the waves—

—the waves. Right. He finally looked where she was pointing, and saw what all the fuss was about.

The ruins of what must have once been a ship tossed back and forth, heaving on the swells. He watched as the water picked up pieces of stout wood, longer than he was tall, and dashed them against the rocks as though they weighed nothing. Further out, in the middle of the wreckage, the tattered remains of a flag could just be seen.

Felix's stomach clenched. One wrong step and they'd be like the flag and the ship, nothing more… A piece of flotsam tangled in the ragged cloth and stuck there, bobbing.

One wrong step.

He tried to tear his eyes away and found he couldn't.

"Whose was it?" Jenna asked, softly, and he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

One of the fishermen spat. "Champa boat. Serves 'em right. They won't be raiding for a long time, now."

Not the prisoner's. Good, he told himself, and it didn't do quite enough to quell the tightness in his chest.

It did a little to break the awful reverie, though, and he considered the rocks again. They'd have to make it across—all of them, an old man, a child, and two none-too-graceful others—without falling in. Felix glanced back down at the smashed remains of the pirates' ship and tried not to think about what would happen if they did. Even a swimmer would be little match for the crashing waves, and with spires like that he had no doubt that the bottom was rocky. A fall would easily mean death—and not a quick one. He backed away even farther from the edge, his heart beginning to race.

One wrong step.

No.

"…Felix?" Jenna was tugging at his sleeve.

She'd been talking, he realized. "Huh?"

She gave him an odd look, but left it at that. "Sheba and I are gonna try fishing. Can I use your knife to make a fishhook?"

He'd gotten it with the rest of the supplies they picked up in Madra, and unlike the sword it was a tool he did know how to use. Fishing, though… "The edge is dangerous."

"We'll be careful! Please? It'll make the food last longer."

She had a point, and there _were_ that handful of fishermen there, alive enough.

One wrong step.

If he told her no, she'd ask him why.

Without a word, he handed her the knife.

* * *

In the end, fishing proved to be too mind-numbing an endeavor for both Jenna and Sheba to endure, but Kraden stepped up handily and caught them several fish, which, when cooked over the fire that Jenna got going (a far more riveting task) made for quite a satisfactory dinner.

Night fell and Felix took first watch. All around him in the dark the waves crashed against the earth, and after an hour he'd begun to think the sound might drive him mad. The sea was everywhere, inescapable, and this close to it they were only moments away from ending up at its mercy.

He got up to pace, trying to calm his jangling nerves. A bare sliver of moon shone in the sky, lighting the cliffs' edge with an eerie blue glow. Further out, the shipwreck was still visible, inky blots on inkier water. He hesitated to walk to too near, but couldn't stay away, and spent the rest of his watch in a kind of back-and-forth dance with the dreadful vision. When the hours finally passed and Jenna's turn came up, he wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and pressed his back to the rock wall against which they'd built their camp, trying to draw strength from the stone. It was still, at least, and silent.

They woke early to warm sun and a slight breeze, and after a breakfast of cold fish shared by everyone except Felix it was time to head for the edge.

Huge fingers of rock erupted from the water's surface, of a height with the plane where the Adepts now stood. Most of the rocks, at least, were fairly close together, with a few thick, rough-bodied vines threaded around the gaps in the stone. Felix—stomach in knots, and glad of skipping breakfast—took the lead for the crossing, moving slowly.

If he focused on the stone it wasn't so bad. He kept his eyes fixed on it, and only on it, letting the craggy green-grey rocks fill his vision and trying to block out the noise of the sea. The stone beneath his feet was blessedly solid, thousands of years worth of stability connected all the way down to the bones of the earth and once he had his mind on that it almost wasn't so bad.

They made their way across one spire, then another. The spaces between were small enough that if they joined hands they could make it—all except Sheba, who leapt over the gaps as though they were nothing and pretended not to see Felix's disapproval.

Then they came to the end.

The last gap was easily twice the size of the others—jumpable, if they were careful, but not so easy. He looked down, and saw the waves breaking white against the spire's base. He froze.

One wrong step.

"Felix?" Kraden called from behind him.

He couldn't remember how to speak.

Kraden called out again, and he finally unclenched his throat. "…yeah?"

"Everything all right?"

How long had he been staring at it?

One wrong step.

No one else thought it was a problem.

He closed his eyes and heaved himself over the gap.

* * *

The rest of the morning passed more calmly, and as they walked the grass started to thin, and the air grew warmer. By the time they truly crossed over into the desert, everyone was sweating.

They stopped briefly to rest in the shade cast by a stone pillar, and Jenna pulled out the strange card to use as a makeshift fan. "I knew it would be hot," she moaned. "But not this hot. The sun is _evil_."

Kraden mopped his face with his handkerchief. "It's only a few days."

"A few days?! I'll be melted by then. Sheba, can't you conjure up a breeze or some clouds or something?"

Sheba, however, wasn't listening. She'd unpinned her shawl, and as they watched she shook it out and carefully draped it around her head and shoulders, shading her face and neck from the worst of it. At their questioning looks, she smiled a little, shyly.

"I grew up in a desert, remember? We don't like sunstroke any more than you do." She looked wistfully out at the drifting sand. "This kind of reminds me of home."

Following Sheba's example, Jenna wasted no time doing the same with her own cape, and Kraden deftly repurposed one of his sashes. Sheba turned to Felix. "Aren't you roasting?"

He remembered the last time she'd traveled through the desert. Her hands had been bound, and she hadn't said a word the entire time. He'd offered her water and she'd shaken like a leaf.

Jenna took his silence for denial, and scoffed. "Yeah, right! If you keep going like that you'll die, and then we'll get stuck carrying your corpse. At least take your cloak off!"

His cloak was heavy wool, thicker than everyone else's and not even suitable for a head-covering. He was loath to give up the protection the collar provided his neck—but if he kept it on, the heat would do him in before they even got into a fight. With reluctance, he rolled it up and stuck it in his pack, along with his gloves. Everything else stayed.

When he'd finished that, the girls were looking at him, contemplatively, but before they could insist on anything else Kraden intervened.

"Here, Felix, take this," he said, holding out his other sash.

Unable to think of a polite refusal, Felix put it on. It was bright yellow and smelled vaguely of knee ointment.

Thus arrayed, they set off across the sands.

* * *

Sunset brought with it some relief from the heat, and as Felix took first watch, it was practically pleasant. Kraden and Sheba fell asleep almost instantly, but Jenna spent a while arranging and rearranging her cape, which she'd been using as a bedroll, before giving up and coming to sit next to him instead.

"I've been thinking."

He raised an eyebrow. "How concerned should I be?"

She poked him lightly in the arm, but her face stayed serious. She was silent for a bit, settling more comfortably on the ground, and finally said, "At Venus Lighthouse, after we escaped—me and Kraden—we ran into these soldiers. Tolbi. They tried to stop us, and we had to fight them."

He turned to look at her, but she waved him off.

"We were fine—the fire scared them away pretty quick, but…"

"But what?"

"Afterward, I-I felt bad. It's just…" She trailed her fingers through the sand, dragging them in abstract patterns. "It seems unfair, you know? They weren't Adepts."

"Adepts or not, they would have hurt you if they could." His hands clenched into fists. They hadn't, he reminded himself, but he should have been there to stop them.

She said nothing, and he wondered why she'd brought it up.

At last it dawned. "Is this about the pirate?"

"How'd you know?"

"Your face. We don't need Sheba around to know what you're thinking."

She poked him again, harder this time, and then sobered. He sighed.

"We're just making sure that he goes quietly. We're not there to attack…but we _will_ defend ourselves, if we have to. There's nothing wrong with that." He gave her half a smile, trying to reassure. "We might not have to. Toss a few fireballs and I'm sure he'll come along."

He almost thought it was the truth. He hoped it would be.

She smiled back and got up, stretching. "Thanks, Felix."

Once she'd fallen asleep, he took out his sword and ran through drills, back and forth across the sand. She'd been in danger, and he hadn't been there to help.

He wouldn't let it happen again.

* * *

"Watch out!"

Felix leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the giant claws slashing at him from the front and the fireball Jenna sent flying from behind him. They'd painstakingly trekked through the desert only to find the path out guarded by a ten-foot-tall scorpion—and it hadn't taken kindly to being woken up.

He paused, just out of its reach, breathing heavily and trying to think. The fight had gone on too long already, and he hadn't done enough to end it—weapons did little against its armored shell, and the sand here was a far cry from the solid earth and stone Felix was used to, and far less happy about bending to his will. The girls had had better luck with their attacks, but though the monster was burned and blasted it was also, regrettably, still alive.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as a bolt of blue lightning snapped out of the sky—and missed, striking just inches from the scorpion's head. Quicker than sight, its tail lashed out, whiplike, to strike back, and Sheba fell with a scream, clutching at her arm.

No more time.

Felix sprinted forward, ramming his sword between two of the armored plates on its back before it had a chance to follow her. The thing whirled around, far faster than anything that size had any right to be, and as it did his sword, still stuck in its flesh, was wrenched out of his hand.

He had all of two seconds to realize just how very bad this was before it plowed him over, sending him sprawling on his back and bouncing his head against the ground, and the only reason he didn't scream was because he'd bitten his tongue with the impact, and then it was _there_—

—he still had his knife but everything was claws and fangs—

—up, he needed to get up, but his body didn't want to listen—

—he reached out to the sand but it wouldn't help him—

—no _time_—

The scorpion bore down on him, pincers snapping.

Clumsily, he scrabbled backward, seeing double and frantically trying to get away from whichever claws were the real ones when Jenna shouted at him, a huge cloud of white-orange flame blossoming between her hands. "Cover your head!"

That he could manage, and he flopped over, pressing his face into the sand just in time to feel a wall of heat sweep across his back.

The scorpion shrieked, and there was an awful crackling noise, and the creature didn't move again. When the world had stopped spinning long enough for him to move again, he turned over to discover that Jenna's fireball had left only a blackened husk, stinger still gleaming deadly-sharp in the desert sun.

He spat red and rolled slowly to his feet, a deep ache starting to thrum down his head and neck. He'd have to heal it, but Sheba needed help first.

Jenna and Kraden were already crouching next to her. A nasty gash, bleeding freely, ran from her elbow down her forearm, nearly all the way to the wrist. Her other hand was held fast in Jenna's, squeezing until the knuckles went white.

He should have thought faster.

He hoped he could fix it.

He knelt in front of her, trying not to wobble. "Let me see." Carefully, he picked up the wounded arm to take a better look, and she hissed in pain.

"I need to see how bad it is," he told her, and nearly growled in frustration. Any half-decent healer would already know.

She winced, and Felix realized she'd probably felt that. He took a deep breath and made himself speak softly. "Can you move your fingers?"

She twitched them in answer, and grimaced.

Not too bad, then. He ought to have enough power to fix it. "Cure," he murmured, and as he did amber light glowed at his fingertips and spread around his hands, growing to encircle her arm. It took a while to reach full strength; he hadn't done this much—only his own minor injuries, or Jenna's bumps and bruises. Alex had always been the healer.

He did make a noise, at that, and she flinched. He had to tighten his grip on her arm to keep it still, and she cried out, which only made the guilt wrench at him harder, and he reined it in just in time to lock it down and think an apology at her before it made things even worse. He forced himself to focus on her arm. Psynergy would heal, but he had to tell it what to do.

Under his concentration, the edges of the cut slowly began to close, the skin knitting back together. Once started, it was only a couples minutes' work and at the end her arm was whole again, looking just as it had before. She bent her fingers slowly, then her elbow, and smiled at him. "Thanks."

He gave her hand a squeeze—gentle, this time—and looked up at Jenna. "You all right?"

She had smears of soot running up one arm and across her face, and the very end of her ponytail looked singed, but she was sitting up straight and steadily. She nodded, and he believed her.

They stayed there a little while longer, resting and very pointedly not discussing how much worse it might have been. Felix was silent as they got themselves back together, but once the weapons were cleaned and everyone had had a chance at water, and he'd had a go at fixing the throbbing ache in his head, which wasn't entirely successful but at least it was better than nothing, he spoke up. They'd got through this, but there was still the matter of the pirate to take deal with, and no one knew what he might be capable of…if he was even there.

"All right," he said. "Next time we're up against something big, we…"

* * *

In the end, he needn't have worried. The pirate was still in Alhafra, and the fight to take him down was short, swift, and brutal. As Felix looked at him down the length of his sword—both of them gasping and drenched in sweat, because Briggs the Pirate fought like a madman to the last—he understood what Jenna had meant. Towns along the coast had all lived in fear of this man, but in the end he was no match for Psynergy. It _did_ feel a little unfair.

Then again, there were people injured, towns in shambles, and an innocent person sitting in jail because of his actions. Thankfully his judgment was in the hands of the town elders, with Madra's mayor as witness, and all Felix had to do was secure his promise of surrender and leave the moralizing to the officials. He watched them take him away and wondered if perhaps he ought to feel worse about it.

He tried not to dwell on that as they prepared to return to Madra. They'd done what they came to do, the pirate was unhurt and with the proper authorities, and they were on their way back to the prisoner Adept, who might not have been the most helpful, but who at least had a working boat. With any luck, a week from now, they'd be under sail.

Finally, things were going right.


	8. Chapter 8

The shouting woke him.

Piers picked his head up from where he'd been lying, stretched out in the dirt in his cell, and tried to figure out what was going on. Orange-red torchlight flickered through the window, and when it had passed him by he saw the sky was still pitch-dark.

More shouts sounded from outside, along with the distinctive clash of steel on steel. He rolled to his feet, interested, and tried to get a better view, but the window was too high. He settled for listening instead, as the chaos outside intensified.

Another pirate attack? He didn't know that the town had anything left to steal. Although if it were pirates, maybe it would finally convince everyone that he wasn't in league with them.

He grinned a little, in the dark. If only he were so lucky.

* * *

Shin came crashing through the prison door not long after breakfast, slamming it so hard behind him that it shook dust from the walls. He stalked to the front of Piers's cell, and stood, and glowered.

Piers merely raised an eyebrow at him.

The silence went on, long enough to become uncomfortable, and finally Shin grumbled, "I guess you're free to go."

Free to go? Piers must have misheard. "What?"

Shin's glare shifted, to the mud-brick walls, the hard-packed floor — anywhere he wouldn't have to meet Piers's eyes. "They found the pirate in Alhafra" he said sullenly. "Mayor says you're free to go." He stepped forward then, a key in hand, and reached for the lock. His hands were shaking.

Piers watched in astonishment as Shin slid the key home, and struggled with the turning—it was an old lock, and not well-made. Could it really be? Finally? After all this time?

Ever-so-slowly, a grin began to spread across his face. He was free. He could finally get out of here, and get on with his mission—and then go _home_.

Yes.

At long last, the lock thunked open, and Piers headed for the door. Shin had already turned and run.

* * *

First things first, Piers decided. He wanted a bath, he wanted proper food, and he wanted to get going, but before any of that could happen he needed the orb.

The brightness of the sun hurt his eyes after so long in the dimly lit jail, but he did his best to ignore it. The mayor wasn't here, he learned after inquiring among people who were only marginally less bothered by his presence than Shin was, but the mayor's wife had stayed behind and she handled matters for him when he was away.

She looked like she'd seen a ghost when she answered his knock at the door, and he wondered at that—they knew he wasn't a pirate, now, so why were they all so terrified?—but then she let him in, and offered him a seat and a cup of tea, both of which he refused, and that was when things stopped going right.

"I can't stay," he explained. "I just came to fetch something your husband was holding for me."

"Did you?" She gave him a weak smile and set down the teapot none-too-steadily, rattling it against the table. Perhaps the mayor hadn't told her. Piers sighed, inwardly, and tried not to be too irritated. He'd been here for weeks. A few minutes more wouldn't matter.

"There was an orb. A black orb. He said he'd keep it safe, but now I need it back."

She twisted her apron hem between her hands and took too long to respond. She wouldn't look at him.

"Do you know where it is?" he asked, and in four words she brought his whole world crashing down.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered. "It's gone."

He froze. "What?"

She bit her lip, and continued fidgeting with her apron. A couple stitches snapped. "The raid, last night—they took it."

No.

No, no, _no_.

It couldn't be. After all this, after _everything_—

He was never going to see his home again. Dread sent his pulse pounding in his ears and the power rushed down his arms, as though striking out would fix things. He clenched his fists to rein it in, and growled, "Who?"

"W-warriors. From Kibombo. It's-it's—" She broke off and shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

He was scaring her, he realized, and took a step back. His knees felt like jelly.

He needed to get out of this place.

She relaxed, fractionally, gaze darting down to his hands. "It would be—to the northwest. The land's connected now."

Now? He had no idea what that meant, and he was going to have to track these people down through country he didn't know and hope he made it in time before they broke it or sold it or—

He'd never quite felt this amount of panic before.

"A map," he heard himself asking, "Do you have a map?"

"The tidal wave changed things, but I can show you what it used to look like." She backed away from him and scrambled for the bookshelf. After some deliberation she pulled down a heavy tome and frantically began to leaf through it. "There's one in here, it's the only one in the village. I'll get Devi to make a copy for you, she's good with a pen—"

"No." By the time she'd finished who knew where his orb would be. He looked at the map, intently, trying to fix it in his mind, noting the changes between it and his ancient charts. It would have to do. "No time."

She looked back to him, wide-eyed. "You can't mean to follow them—the cliffs—"

"I have to." He closed the book, and turned away.

"No—don't—wait!" She said something else, but he didn't catch it.

He was already headed down the road.

* * *

Piers's ship lay beached in the shallows to the northeast. It seemed more-or-less unharmed, thank the gods, and he practically sprinted the last hundred yards to it before hauling himself up onto the deck. Finally, finally, he was back where he belonged. Giddy relief welled up in him, and he sank to his knees near the figurehead. He could have kissed it.

He reached out, instead, and put a hand to the wooden boards. No spark of psynergy jumped to meet him, no presence answered his touch. Without the orb, the ship was dead and cold and useless, but it was still _his_, and he was going to set it back to rights no matter what he had to do.

With that thought in mind, he picked himself back up, and set to seeing what kind of damage the villagers had done. The main cabin had been searched, and it was a mess, with charts flung every which way and some of his supplies missing—food, it looked like—but after all the other things he had to deal with he found he couldn't even summon the energy to be angry about it. He decided to sort that out later and headed belowdecks.

They mayor must have stopped the boarding party before they got this far, as everything else was still as he'd left it, undisturbed, with boxes and barrels of supplies still stacked neatly in the hold. Thankfully, his king had expected a long journey and had had the ship outfitted with provisions to match.

Piers was crouching by one of the crates and trying to decide if he wanted food or soap or weapons first, when the truth of the matter hit him.

The king. Home. Even if he had the orb and had completed his mission, he didn't know how to get back, didn't know how to find the path through the swirling mist.

He was _alone_.

All of a sudden, the storeroom felt cold, and dark, and very, very large.

He swallowed.

Food and soap and weapons all at once, he decided, rising to his feet. And then he could get moving.

The sooner he got moving, the sooner he'd make it home.

* * *

Some days later, Piers again found himself lying in the dirt, although this time it was the dirt of a desolate patch of jungle as opposed to the dirt floor of a prison cell. And for that, he preferred it, though just barely. He considered the scratches covering his arms and legs and grimaced. At least the prison cell hadn't been full of thorns.

The prison cell also hadn't held his orb, however, and this patch of jungle just might. He lay, hidden by a tangle of spiny bushes, on a ridge overlooking Kibombo village, and watched as the people bustled about, carefully arranging drums and torches around the massive idol statue that stood at the north end of the town. If the rumors were true, they were inducting their new witch-doctor tonight, and the orb had something to do with the process.

_If_ the rumors were true. He hadn't seen the orb, yet, but he didn't have any other leads. He longed to just jump down and ransack the village until he found it, but if he did they'd surely try to stop him and he was loath to entangle himself any more than he had to.

He'd already had a run-in with some of their soldiers. They'd come up behind him and he'd panicked, and flung ice at them before he had a chance to think.

He wasn't proud of it.

If they needed the orb for the ritual they'd have to bring it out, sometime. In the dark he might even be able to steal it back without having to fight any of them.

He shifted, settling in and trying to get a little more comfortable. He had all day before they started; he might as well try to catch up on sleep.

He would wait.

* * *

Nightfall brought noise, and the big drums served handily as a wake-up call. The villagers had begun their ceremony, dancing and chanting to the beat. Piers scouted around, looking for a way in.

The ledge on which he stood continued around to the back of the statue. It would have been a good place to start—he could climb down from there without anyone seeing him—but to get behind the statue he'd have to cross a gap that was too large to jump. The dead tree on the other side might have made a suitable bridge, but he'd used the last of his rope crossing the cliffs and had no other way to bring it down.

He headed for his original hiding space, trying to come up with a new plan. Maybe he could find a way across the rooftops…

A voice called out in the darkness, just audible over the drums. "There he is!"

Piers spun around, hands up and ice at the ready.

A young man stood there, tall and dark-haired—the visitor from Madra, he realized with a jolt. What business could he possibly have here? Piers stared at him, baffled, and dropped his hands. "Who are you?"

It came out less surely than he'd meant it to, embarrassingly high-pitched. He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together—and that's when he noticed the visitor had others with him. Two girls, one brown-haired and tallish, and the second short and blonde. Both carried weapons. Behind them an old man leaned lightly on a walking stick.

His gaze swept over it all, taking them in, and then focused on the young man, intently. He drew himself up to his full height, set his jaw. "What are your intentions?"

Better, that time. They couldn't possibly mean to fight him. He'd defeat them all, handily. He'd have to. He wasn't going back to prison.

Fighting, however, didn't seem to be part of their plan.

"He doesn't remember us!" the brown-haired girl squawked, incredulous.

The blonde one, meanwhile, gave him a searching sort of look, a small smile playing across her face. "Yes, he does."

Something about the way she said it, with absolute certainty in her voice, made Piers deeply uncomfortable. He turned back to the young man.

"I remember you," he said softly. "You came to the prison. Why are you here now?"

The others all turned to look at the young man as well—was he their leader?—but he said nothing.

Behind them, the drumming picked up, and Piers clenched his fists. There wasn't time for this. "If you have an answer, speak quickly. If not, leave."

The brown-haired girl jumped in before he could answer, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "We're trying to help you! What's your problem?"

Piers nearly growled in frustration. More talk. If these people didn't leave him, soon, he would miss his chance and he'd be stuck here the rest of his life. "Tell me something," he hissed. "Exactly when did I ask for your help?"

She jabbed a finger at him, about to say something more, but just then a shout rang up from the village. _"SILENCE!"_

Piers whirled around, all thoughts of visitors forgotten.

One of the villagers—the witch-doctor-to-be, he guessed, from the elaborate headdress and intricately-beaded cloak—stepped forward. He reached under the cloak and held out—

—the orb.

"That's it," Piers breathed, unaware he'd spoken aloud. His way home. It was right there, right in front of him, so _close_. He took a step forward, and froze.

It was _his_, but there were a hundred people down there, and they'd fight him for it.

As he stood thinking, the witch-doctor approached the giant statue, holding up the orb like an offering. Piers held his breath, heart pounding in his ears.

Nothing happened.

Was that part of the ritual? The crowd of villagers began to murmur, restlessly. Something had gone wrong.

Below him, the witch-doctor put the orb away and drew back, and the drumming began anew.

Piers let out the breath he'd been holding. He'd have to get the orb back before whatever-it-was went right.

He hoped it would take a while.

The young man tapped him on the shoulder, and met Piers's glare with what might have been an attempt at a smile. He looked about as happy as Piers felt. "I apologize for my sister. She's not exactly a diplomat."

Sister? Piers looked more closely at the man in front of him, and saw that he and the brown-haired girl _did_ look rather alike. And none of that mattered, he reminded himself, because he wasn't staying here long enough to get to know any of them. "Fine," he said. "What do you want?"

"Can I speak with you?" He shot a glance back at the aforementioned sister. "Alone?"

Piers supposed if he agreed, it would hasten their departure, and he could get the orb without distraction. Maybe he could find a vine to use as rope across the gap in the ledge, or weave some of the thorny branches into a bridge…he nodded, absentmindedly, and headed for the gap, the stranger trailing behind. "Who are you?" he asked once they'd reached it.

"My name is Felix."

"Then tell me, Felix, what could you possibly do to help?"

Something—annoyance, perhaps—flitted across Felix's face for all of half a second before he closed his eyes and faced the dead tree, one hand outstretched. After a moment, it started to move, and kept moving, until it had covered the gap in the ledge. He turned to Piers, raising an eyebrow.

Oh. "You're Adepts."

He'd heard they existed, out here, but that had been centuries ago. The king had suspected they'd all died out.

Apparently not. What else was this place going to throw at him?

"I am. Jenna and Sheba are. Kraden isn't."

Jenna and Sheba must have been the girls. Piers wondered which was which. No, he didn't, he told himself. He was leaving these people as soon as he could. Even so…"What are you doing here?"

Felix scrubbed a hand along his jaw. "I'll be honest. We need the use of a boat."

Wonderful. He didn't even know these people and they wanted something from him. He should never have agreed to this mission. "I have a ship. Without the orb it's useless." A realization dawned. "You knew that already."

Felix nodded. "We'd hoped if we helped you…"

"…then perhaps I'd return the favor?"

He had the manners to look sheepish about it, at least.

Still… "You came all the way here on a chance?"

Felix looked even more sheepish, at that, but held Piers's gaze. In the dim light his eyes were black. "And-"

He stopped.

"And what?"

He was silent about it a long moment, and then went on, hesitantly, "You're an Adept, as well. We don't come across many of those."

Somehow, Piers thought that hadn't been his original answer. "If I were to refuse?"

Felix looked disappointed—maybe, it was hard to tell with those strange eyes—but not surprised. At least, the charitable part of Piers's brain thought, he knew he was asking a large favor. "We'd help you anyway," Felix said.

An awfully convenient response. Piers narrowed his eyes.

Felix sighed, and looked away from him. "Objects that have power are dangerous in the wrong hands."

He had the sense that there was more to it than that, but no further answer was forthcoming. He crossed his arms. "Suppose I _were_ to give you passage. Where are you going?"

Why was he even entertaining this? The weeks he'd spent in prison must have driven him mad. But they could help, and if it came down to fighting four Adepts were better than one.

Felix grimaced. "It's—a long story. It'll take some time to explain."

Time they didn't have. That didn't sound promising.

Piers would have liked to press the matter further, but behind them, the drumming picked up again. He looked down into the village to see that they'd changed their dance, as well. His orb was still as it had been, front and center—though who knew for how long. He glanced back to Felix. "You _will_ help?"

His face was near-unreadable in the darkness. "Yes."

Piers nodded, and reached for his sword. "Then let's go."


	9. Chapter 9

"Gyah," Jenna said, giving the enormous statue a sidelong glance as she crept through the shadows. "That thing's creepy."

"I like it!" said Sheba, nimbly picking her way across the stony ground. She'd managed to get close enough to the crowd of people to read some of their minds, and apparently this whole ceremony was about waiting for the statue to _eat_ Piers's orb. It made little sense to Felix, but Sheba insisted that they were all thinking it. With nothing else to go on, there was no choice but to believe.

"Shh! They'll hear you!" Felix was ahead of them, searching for a way inside. After all, if the statue was going to eat the orb, the orb had to end up _somewhere_. They hadn't found a door on the statue's back, though they'd searched for quite some time, so the entrance had to be elsewhere…

"Over here!" Piers called softly from a nearby clump of trees. "I think I've found something."

He had. A trapdoor led to a ladder which led them to a cramped and musty tunnel, sparsely lit with torches, shadows dancing across the walls. It would have been the perfect spot for an ambush, but there was no one there. Nothing in the darkness, except for an incessant creaking. They looked around carefully for the source and finally realized that it was coming from a system of clockwork mechanisms, all connected to each other and going up into the ceiling and down into the floor.

They spent some time trying to figure out just what its purpose was—"Maybe that's how it eats?" Jenna suggested—but in the end decided to leave well enough alone and tiptoed on through the gloom, peering into corners and staying well away from the giant gears, until a shout from Piers brought everybody running. "Everyone! Come look what I've found!"

He stood near a dusty chest, poised to open the lid. Jenna was the first to see it for what it was and sprinted forward, weapon outstretched. "No, don't! That's a Mi-"

"_Raaaarrgghhlll!_"

It grabbed him by the arm, tentacles flailing wildly. Piers narrowly avoided its snapping teeth, using his other hand to cast something that covered it in ice, freezing it on the spot. He yanked his other arm free, and staggered backward, fumbling for his sword. "What is that thing?!"

"A Mimic," said Felix, drawing his own weapon, and eyeing Piers's handiwork. The creature was frozen under a lump of ice as tall as a person, and Piers had called it up like it was nothing. He wasn't even breathing hard.

When Felix didn't elaborate, Piers looked to Jenna, who went on, "They always look like they've got something good inside, and then you go for it and _snap_!"

She would have said more, but a growl from the creature interrupted her. Sheba darted forward, hefting her staff. "And it's waking up! Let's go!"

With the element of surprise gone it was an easy enough victory, and they pressed onward through the tunnels until they reached another suspicious-looking chest. Piers took the initiative this time, jumping forward to freeze it and then circling around with his sword at the ready in anticipation of its next move.

Jenna gave a sidelong glance to Sheba. "You think we should tell him?"

Sheba grinned at her, and shook her head.

At least, he noticed that no one else seemed to share his enthusiasm, and turned around, sheepish. "That's not a Mimic, is it?"

Kraden cleared his throat. "I'm afraid not. But since you've, er, defeated it so gallantly, why don't you do the honors?"

He gave an elaborate bow and opened the chest to reveal something small, not much bigger than his palm. A wide bracelet, carved out of bone.

"Who gets it?" asked Jenna, giving Piers a pointed glance.

Piers shrugged. "Well, it's not going to fit me." He tried anyway, managing to get it over three of his fingers and striking a pose. Jenna and Sheba giggled.

In the end it only fit Sheba, who slid it on and went wide-eyed, muttering something they couldn't hear. When she saw everyone staring she waved a hand. "Never mind, let's go!"

Felix raised an eyebrow, but she said nothing else, and they continued on through the dark.

The Mimic was only the beginning. As the Adepts made their way through the twisted maze of corridors, they found more monsters waiting for them. With Piers to help, however, the ensuing fights were shorter and neater than they otherwise would have been. Whoever Piers was, he knew what he was doing.

And Felix didn't.

He did his best with the next vermin they dispatched, rats that had grown to knee-height and sprouted venomous fangs, and even as he struck the killing blow to the last of them and drew back his sword he felt himself being watched.

Piers, eyeing him quizzically. "Who taught you to fight?"

Felix could feel his face redden, and did his best not to let on. "I did."

Piers started to say something, but Felix was spared any further discussion of it when Jenna called out from behind them. "Little help?"

She sat on the floor of the tunnel, even more red-faced than Felix, one leg stuck out awkwardly in front of her. That strange card she's taken a liking to poked out from the top of her boot. "So, uh, one was coming after us and I was all set to give it a fireball between the eyes and uh—"

"She tripped!" said Sheba. "And then she fell on her face!"

"Shut _up_! I was _jumping!_ Anyway, I twisted my ankle."

Felix knelt to look at it, frowning, though all things considered it wasn't that bad. A few minutes' work and she'd be fine.

"I can help." Piers crouched next to her, reaching for the injured leg.

"Can you heal?" Felix asked him.

"Well enough."

Which, again, meant he probably actually knew what he was doing. Unlike Felix. With a sigh, Felix drew back and let him get to fixing it.

* * *

As it happened, the statue actually _was_ designed to eat Piers's orb—for a certain value of 'eat', anyway. A little more poking around and a lot more fighting led them all to a series of malfunctioning mechanisms which were easy enough to set to rights. With that done, the next time the witch doctor offered up the orb, the orb was "eaten" by the statue and fell right back into Piers's waiting hands. He grinned, and for the first time since they'd met him all the way back in that dusty cell in Madra he didn't look like he was about to kill something.

Maybe, Felix thought. Maybe this could actually work.

The locals were pleasant enough now that the witch-doctor ceremony had finally succeeded, but even so no one felt comfortable spending the night in Kibombo, Piers least of all. He'd been carrying the orb in his hand ever since he'd got it, unwilling to even stow it away in a pack. The Adepts all made their way back into the jungle instead, setting up camp in a clearing.

"We always set a watch," Felix said, squaring his shoulders and wondering why he suddenly felt like he had to justify himself. "I take the first shift. Feel free to go to sleep."

Piers stared at him, inscrutable, for quite some time. "I think I'd rather join you," he finally said, and settled in across from him, leaning against a tree with the orb cradled in his lap.

Felix stared back, silently.

Piers spoke first.

"So, Felix," he said. "You kept your word. Thanks to you I'll have a working ship again. You said you needed the use of it?"

They did. He hoped Piers wouldn't ask why. It would have to come out eventually, he knew, but not just yet. Better not to put an end to their journey before it even began. "We need to get to the continent of Atteka."

He had no idea where that was, but Kraden did. He assumed Piers would, too.

"I'll be traveling there," Piers said, after a bit. "I can take you. You'll have to help with the sailing."

A lucky coincidence, that. Too lucky. "What brings you to Atteka?"

Piers turned the orb over in his hands, looking intently at it. "I'm a—mapmaker. I'm charting Weyard."

"All of it?"

"Eventually."

On whose orders? Felix wanted to ask, but it would have invited questions about his own mission. He said nothing, and Piers looked up at him, also silent. When it became clear he wasn't going to explain, Felix sighed. He'd been trustworthy this far, hadn't he, and he could have betrayed them several times over by now. He could have run, now that he had what he needed. He could even have killed them all. He had the strength to do it.

He was their only chance.

At last, Felix leaned forward, extending a hand. "All right. We help you sail, and you take us to Atteka. Is it a deal?"

Piers took his hand, and shook it, and then it was official.

* * *

The next day saw them trekking down the mountain—far easier than the trip up—and down into the village of Naribwe. Piers had avoided it on the way in, but Felix said it was friendly.

It certainly seemed that way when they got to the inn. The innkeeper jumped up from where she'd been peeling vegetables, before any of them even had a chance to speak. "Travelers! Wait right here!"

She ran to fetch someone—her husband, presumably, who appeared from a back doorway with an enthusiastic, "Welcome, travelers!" and then said quite possibly the last thing Piers had ever been expecting to hear. "Is one of you Piers?"

What?

Piers could feel everyone's eyes on him. He frowned. "Who wants to know?"

Gods help him, if anyone tried imprisoning him _again_…

"Only there was this other traveler, right, he came through here about a week ago, and said he was looking for a Piers. He had a group of people with him. They weren't from around here, that's for sure." He seemed to realize who he was speaking to and gave a nervous chuckle. "Anyway, he said if I found this Piers, I should tell him they're looking for him. Paid me pretty handsomely for it, too…"

Piers only stared at him, trying to make sense of it. No one from Madra would be able venture this far, and none of his own people would have dared, either. And the Kibombo wouldn't have known of him a week ago…

Felix caught on first. His voice was low and in it Piers heard the wavering hint of barely restrained anger. "Who was it?" He stepped forward, placing a hand on the counter, even as the other was heading for his sword-hilt. "What was his name?"

The innkeeper's gaze darted back and forth between the two of them, and he took a step back, hastily. "Isaac. He said his name was Isaac."

The word may as well have been a bolt of lightning. Piers heard exclamations of surprise—and one rather inventive curse, though he wasn't sure which of the girls had said it. Felix rounded on him, glaring. "You're working with _him_?"

"No!" Why was everyone so quick to make everything his fault? He brought his hands up without thinking, fingers glowing blue. "You—"

"Gentlemen!" Kraden stepped between them, arms wide. One baggy homespun sleeve slipped down to his elbow, exposing a tanned and sinewy forearm. "Enough."

Felix glared at him with stony eyes, but stilled.

Piers's hands were getting cold. That would solve nothing, he told himself, and these people had helped him. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Inch by inch, he dropped his hands, and Felix let go of his sword.

Kraden gave the innkeeper a tight smile, and nodded toward the door. "Perhaps we should take this outside."

With mumbled apologies all around, they did just that, filing out into the inn yard and arranging themselves under the shade of a broad-leafed tree. Felix stood across from him, looking just as furious as before, and next to him Sheba watched him through narrowed eyes. She caught him looking, and gave what might have been the start of a smile—but not a friendly one. Jenna lingered behind them both, looking at the ground and bitting her bottom lip so hard he was amazed she hadn't drawn blood.

Piers sighed. He'd had more than enough of having to explain himself to strangers.

At least these ones were listening.

"I have no idea who this Isaac is," Piers said. "Truly."

He didn't miss the way Felix gave a sidelong glance to Sheba once he'd said it, or the way she nodded, barely perceptible, but there were bigger problems at hand. "You do."

"Yes," Felix answered, grimly. "We do. He wants to stop us. Why is he asking after you?"

"I don't know!"

Kraden spoke up. "The ship."

They all turned to him, and he clasped his hands behind his back, pacing across the dusty ground. "Isaac wouldn't have a ship, and as far as he knows we've already sailed away. And it's no secret that Piers has the only ship that's seaworthy around here."

"Good!" said Sheba. "What? He won't be looking for us around here and once we leave with Piers he won't be able to catch us." She elbowed Felix, who kept his gaze fixed on Piers. "C'mon, you know that's good!"

"It is," he finally agreed, "If our arrangement still stands."

You might have told me you were being hunted, Piers thought, and when he looked at Felix's face he couldn't read it. But they'd helped him, hadn't they, even without the guarantee of a reward. "It might," he said. "Why does this Isaac wish to stop you?"

Kraden cleared his throat. "Isaac is suffering from some…misinformation."

"Then why not speak with him and correct it?"

Another pregnant pause.

Eventually, Felix said, "He is…very strong."

He fell silent for a moment, looking off into the distance, and when he spoke again his voice was tense. "And not inclined to listening. We _need_ to get to Atteka."

He'd kept up his end of the bargain. It would have been easy enough for three Adepts to overpower one, and they hadn't—and any one of them could have steered the ship. "All right," Piers said. "All right."

The stiffness visibly left Felix's shoulders, and he nodded. He'd just opened his mouth to speak when Jenna interrupted.

"Can't we—"

Her voice broke, and they all looked over to see her hugging her arms tight around herself, chin trembling. "It's just—he's alive."

She swallowed, blinking furiously. "He's _alive_. Can't we do something?"

Silence.

The others stared, and after too many moments Sheba wordlessly put an arm around her. Felix looked like he'd been kicked.

"He won't listen," Felix said at last, "And we can't _make_ him listen." His voice softened. "I don't stand a chance against him in a fight."

No one made to correct him.

The tears she'd been fighting spilled over, then, but her voice was steady. "So what are we going to do?"

She was looking to her brother for an answer, but Kraden spoke instead, slowly. "We're going to run."


End file.
